Coming Home with Me
by Halo0912
Summary: I always thought there should be a scene at the end of the miniseries where we actually saw things get resolved outright between Margaret and Mr. Thornton. I am expanding on this idea after a great beginning. Reviews are most welcome!
1. Love Newly Discovered and Love Reborn

Coming home With Me

John Thornton couldn't believe his good fortune. He was dreaming, surely. Perhaps he was suffering from too many nights of lost sleep and the agony of knowing he'd failed at his business. Perhaps his tired brain had finally succumbed to the fevered dreams he'd suffered from every night since his beloved Margaret had left him.

That was the only possible explanation for why said beautiful creature appeared to be sitting next to him in a north-bound train compartment - he d merely brought up her lovely face and graceful form so the memory could aid him in bearing everything he must. But she turned to him just then, a beaming smile lighting up her features even more than the afternoon sun ever could. His eyes fell from her brilliant eyes to the upturned curve of the rosebud perfection that was her mouth - a mouth that he'd dared to kiss not a hour ago with a passion he could no longer contain. A mouth that had returned the affection he offered- hesitantly at first, as became a lady who (he had no doubt in his mind) had never been so embraced before. But after a moment her reaction had grown warmer and more assured until he'd had no doubt that her feelings for him were as strong as his for her. He could still feel the pressure of those lips on his - God in heaven, this sweet madness had every evidence of being reality.

A train whistle blasted shrilly just then, and John flinched, closing his eyes and sighing. So real... if not for his mother and Fanny, he'd gladly slip forever into such a fantasy. A dream where he'd found his Margaret - in a train depot, of all places. That she'd offered him an investment in him and his mill - ostensibly for business purposes, even though her eyes and tone had communicated otherwise. He d touched her hand for reassurance that he didn't hate her, as she must have thought all these long months - and she'd accepted his touch... and then had bowed her lovely head and pressed the lips he'd dreamed of for ages against his hand. In his dream, he thought he'd died and gone to heaven in that moment.

Then, they had kissed for an interminable period, his senses reeling, his heart racing as if he'd been running for miles. He didn't care that they were embracing in a public place or that Margaret, had she been real, would have no doubt struck him hard in his face for his impertinence and violation of her virtue. None of that mattered. In his dream, this beautiful, brave young woman had looked on him with the eyes of love and offered him what she thought was his heart's desire - though he knew he'd sacrifice the mill, his pride, or anything she asked of him if she'd only offer him what he truly wanted - herself, heart, body and soul for the rest of his days.

Then, like all dreams, it had taken a turn for the worse. She'd turned away from him without a word - walked away from him... again. It had left his entire body shaking with disappointment and aching from the loss of contact with her. But of course - even in a dream, how could a woman of substantial means lower herself to being matched with a man who now had nothing but himself to recommend him. She could have any man she desired. And judging from the glowering expression on Mr. Henry Lennox's face from the south bound train compartment, he'd minded very much the scene he'd just been witness to. Margaret could hardly do better for herself than ally herself with a man about to make his mark on the world such as he. While he, John Thornton, was merely a man to be pitied after the ruin of all his hopes. Not nearly good enough for his Margaret.

_His _Margaret... his stomach turned at the mere thought of any other man touching her in the way he had just dreamed. Possessing not only her lips, but every precious scrap of her. Margaret... no longer bearing the name of her estimable father, but that of a stranger. His Margaret... lost to him indeed, forever. John pressed his lips together tightly. He was no coward - for his mother's sake, he'd have to bear this knowledge in life rather than run from it in death. But his heart would no longer beat - he'd become more machine than man, and perhaps God would be merciful and all feeling would be lost to him before long.

He'd turned back towards the train in utter defeat, but the dream turned again, and he'd looked up to see her dear face in the reflection from the window. Turning around, he'd seen the light in her eyes again - and his heart had risen up in his chest to beat again. "You're coming home with me?" he'd asked, his voice shaking. And she'd smiled... looking down for a moment, and following her gaze, it registered with him that she was now clutching a red carpet bag in one hand. His eyes had met hers again, his heart swelling so much he thought it would burst inside him. Without breaking gaze with her, he'd allowed her to enter the compartment before climbing in next to her and shutting the door before she could think better of her choice. Uncouth beast that he was, he dared not risk letting her leave him - never again.

But now... when he opened his eyes again, she would be gone. He would be alone again - haunted by the memory of the only woman in the world who could ever matter to him in a personal sense. She was in London being admired and feted not only by Mr. Lennox but by God only knew how many other men. He could never compare, never compete with any of them - and yet he knew somehow that none of them would love Margaret the way he did. He knew her - knew her heart and her mind and everything that truly made up Margaret Hale. He'd loved her long before she'd had money and he'd love if she still had nothing. She was a treasure beyond price without any material attachments and he'd have been proud to have her bear his name. No other woman ever would, there was no question of that. And somehow... somehow he had to bear life without her.

And then... he felt a gentle weight on his shoulder, and still keeping his eyes closed, he turned his head ever so slightly and inhaled. Violets... the scent that always permeated the air when she was near. Still not quite daring to believe his senses yet, he blindly reached out and touched her hair and reveled anew in its silken softness. His eyes opened... and she was still there, her head now leaning against his shoulder, one smooth white hand resting lightly on his arm.

"Margaret?" he rasped, unable to modulate his tones due to the overwhelming nature of his emotions. Her head lifted from his shoulder and turned, her eyes meeting his. "I thought you'd fallen asleep, Mr. Thornton. You look so tired -I can't imagine what you've been through these last months."

One of her sweet hands left his to caress his unshaven cheek, and he instinctively leaned his face into her touch. "I didn't dream it - you're here with me," he murmured, still not quite completely credulous. His eyes closed, but quickly opened again, not daring to lose sight of her, precious hallucination or no.

She laughed gently. "Mr. Thornton, you regard me as if I were some apparition that might disappear if you look away." She smiled as she leaned closer to him, taking his rough, calloused hands in her white, smooth ones. "I am no ghost, sir - I am flesh and blood, as you can plainly see."

Her warm, sweet breath rushed across his face as she spoke - in all his tortured imaginings, he'd never been able to conjure that sensation and had feared he would never know such a thrill of feeling from a mere whisper ever again.

"John. Call me by my name, my love." he asked her. His eyes were fastened to her rosebud mouth as they formed words, his ears ignoring all sound except for that which left those lips. "If you wish... John." Her voice was shaking a little, as if the emotion of the moment were just as overwhelming to her as it was to him. His name on her lips - not just a formality. It was a more glorious sound than any music he d ever heard.

Before he could stop himself, the words stirring in his heart poured out of him. "Marry me, Margaret. I don't deserve you, and God knows you could do better than a wreck and a failure of a man such as I am. But I love you with all my soul and I would be the richest man in the world if I had you by my side - for you are my treasure, dearest Margaret. I'd give anything to call you mine, even if you still had naught in this world but the dress you stand up in right now. I'd work as a laborer with no stain on my pride to provide you with a dress for our wedding and a home to take you to - I swear it. I'm lost without you, my love..." his voice trembled, but he never broke gaze with her. "I've _been_ lost without you and you must believe me when I say that I could own all the mills and cotton in England and I'd still be a wretched beggar without your love."

His hands squeezed hers as his heart tightened in trepidation. "Marry me, my love. You've told me you're willing to gamble your fortune on me - could you bear to risk your heart and your future in the same fashion? I swear you'll not regret it." And with that, he took a deep breath and waited. The whole world balanced on what Margaret would say next.

Her clear blue eyes regarded him for what seemed an interminable moment. His heart raced, watching her regard him in such a solemn fashion. What was she thinking? Was she trying to find the words to let him down easy this time? But she had just shown her affection for him with such sincerity and ardor just a short time ago that he was convinced she was no longer indifferent to him. Was it the differences in their social status, then? And yet she'd left the reputable Mr. Lennox to ride back to London on his own - surely if she was worried about what would be said when he reached her aunt's house, surely she would have not left a seemingly more desirable match in Mr. Lennox for a bankrupt man of business such as himself.

John was so lost in his own whirling thoughts that he almost missed Margaret's commencing to reply to him. Abruptly, he focused back on her face and her serious, measured tones."Mr. Thornton - John..." she blushed as she corrected herself. God, but she was even bonnier with her cheeks all flushed like that! "I... I never expected or even hoped that you would renew your addresses to me, especially after the foolish and insensitive way I reacted when you first paid them to me. No, please..." she continued, when he would have interrupted her. "Please allow me to apologize for my unpardonable behavior to you at the time. Your mother was right in telling me that I had no idea of the sort of man I'd turned away."

Her eyes fell before his and she looked down. "I had no right to accuse you of any of the things I did on that terrible day. I honestly wished the words unsaid not long after you left. Though I do not think I was wrong in refusing you at the time, because I cannot honestly say that I returned your affections, and I should have made you unhappy if I had accepted you without being able to requite you. But I should not have been so ungracious and so unkind, and I only hope you do not still bear me any resentment, sir. The thought of your despising me on that - and another score - has troubled my heart deeply for many months now."

Had he blinked a moment earlier, he would have missed the clear teardrop that fell into her lap. Poor precious girl - to think she'd been in similar agony all these months - and if he'd only put his pride in his pocket and not believed that she had been unchaste with that stranger, whom he now knew was her renegade older brother, they both would have been spared so much pain - they would have been man and wife already, surely.

"Margaret," he lifted her lowered chin so that her gaze met his again. It was important that she see as well as hear the truth from him. "My love, please don't cry your tears are the worst possible torture." Margaret just looked down again, fumbling in her pocket. "My handkerchief," she murmured agitatedly. Without removing his gaze from her face, John took out his own handkerchief from his vest pocket and wordlessly handed it to her. She took it with trembling fingers and dabbed at her eyes. John watched her, admiring the gracefulness of her movements. Everything about her fascinated him, and he knew with satisfaction that she would never have to worry about his affection waning or his attention wandering from her - this extraordinary woman had the power to keep him in her thrall for the rest of his days.

When she had composed herself, she raised her eyes to his again. Now, he told himself. "Rest your mind on those matters, my love. I forgave your harsh refusal of me a long time ago. And..." he took a breath before continuing. "I know now that the man at the station that night was not a lover - and now _I_ must beg _your_ forgiveness for thinking that you would ever behave in such a manner. I've been a jealous fool, and I won't deny it to you, as ashamed as I am now to think of it. We might have both been spared months of agony if I'd just trusted in you. But I know the truth now - and I think you exceptionally brave, the way you've protected your brother. Much the way you protected me from harm." he bent his head gently to kiss her hand.

"You know about Frederick," Margaret's voice shook, but John just kissed her hands again. "I know why you and your family never mentioned him - and I promise that his secret is safe with me. Even if he is not to become my brother-in-law, I would never put your brother's liberty in jeopardy." He grinned at her, though his heart was still racing in anticipation. "You haven't answered my proposal, by the by, Miss Hale. Do you have any more objections besides my non-existent resentment?"

"Your mother-" Margaret began, but John cut her off before she could finish. "My mother will learn to love and respect you as she does me. I don't say that it will be easy, but it will come to pass. And I hope you will be able to look upon her as a mother as well someday. But my mother's feelings on the subject are not as important as ours - yours and mine. If you love me enough to marry me, as I do you, that is all that will ever matter. Do you love me, Margaret? Will you marry me?" He needed to hear the words - her actions today had surely implied them, but after months of believing he would never be able to even ask the question of her again, he sorely needed some kind of assurance for his present relief.

Tears filled her eyes again, but they were accompanied with a brilliant, seemingly incredulous smile. "I do love you, Mr. Thornton, she smiled. "John. Oh, I must learn to call you that now. If you think me worthy of your good and honorable name, I would be glad to take it for my own."

Her voice was laced with sincerity, with honesty... and with love. She loved him. His words to her were indeed true - he was at this moment, the richest man in England ad it had nothing to do with money or mills.

John leaned forward and kissed her, unable to contain his happiness. Margaret kissed him back, fervor for fervor. As the train carried them on towards Milton - towards home, he reveled in their new-found love. Life would never be never free of pain or hardship - they'd both suffered too much these last months to deceive themselves that way. But he could face anything right now - no hardship would be unendurable now that he had Margaret in his arms - and in his life - for good. He still couldn't quite believe his good fortune, but he'd never take it for granted.

"We're almost home, love." He whispered in her ear. "I'm so glad you're coming home with me."


	2. Reality in the Midst of a Dream

_*Note* Of course, I don't own the amazing book called North and South or it's characters -Mrs. Gaskell does.*_

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><p>"MILTON - NEXT STOP! NEXT STOP'S FOR MILTON..."<p>

John's eyes finally left the face of his beloved's to gaze outside at the now-familiar landscape. _Home_... they were almost there. He and Margaret - he still couldn't fully grasp that the woman beside him was real - was _his_, in fact if not in name just yet.

She slumbered peacefully, her head leaned against his shoulder, her hand encased in his. And to think he'd be the only man permitted to know what heaven it was to kiss her... to run his fingers through her hair as he'd fantasized so often... To know every inch of her intimately and to be known in the same way by her. To watch his babe growing inside her and delighting in the wondrous changes her body would go through... to watch her grow in beauty even as she grew older - for surely her beauty would never fade in his eyes, no matter how much time passed.

He sighed, regretful that this idyllic moment must now pass. For at home meant facing certain realities - his mother's reaction to this day's events for starters. She would not take things easily, that much he could predict already. And he hated the very idea of this day being marred by his mother's disparaging remarks - and Margaret's natural reaction to them. Margaret was one of the few women - indeed, few people - he'd ever met who had the courage to stand up to his mother besides himself. Now he thought on it, strength was a trait that both women shared in measure. He'd leaned so on his mother's iron will growing up, and it had helped shape his own determination. And Margaret had never been afraid to stand up to him the whole time he'd known her - from their very first meeting, she'd voiced her opinions on every subject without restraint. John smiled - that blessed day he'd cursed at first, but now treasured with all his heart.

But the difference between them was that Margaret was more willing to bend than his mother. She had taught him the value of compromise, which had changed him not only as a master, but as a man. He'd been just as proud as she'd been, in his own way - as proud and as unyielding as his mother. And where had it gotten him? Despised by the men who worked for him and rejected by the woman he loved.

He'd honestly thought that she'd admire of his position that day - and therefore admiring of himself - and prove eager to be his wife. He'd not realized that a woman like Margaret would not be won by money or position, as his sister Fanny had been with Watson. He had not earned her respect - and love, he realized, could not grow in a heart where respect had not first been planted.

And yet now, when his hands were completely empty of all worldliness, yet they were fuller than they had ever been. John again looked down at their entwined hands. All that was glorious in the world rested right here and he'd never let go of her again without raising all the hounds of hell. He'd been a fool once - he'd naught be such a fool again. His heart couldn't bear it.

"Margaret," he whispered in her ear. "Wake up, my love. We're nearly home." And he wanted to see her beautiful eyes again. Needed to see her smile again more than he needed another breath.

The long dark lashes that fanned out against her alabaster skin blinked once, twice. Then they opened fully, gazing into his - shining with the love he knew now she bore him. "_Home_," she whispered. "I missed it so much - I felt as if a part of my heart died the day I left it. The day I left you... I thought I'd never see your face again and it was almost worse than losing Mother and Father. Your being alive in the world and my not being able see you... or hear your voice. I've wanted to go back every day but I thought you wouldn't care to see me."

The pain that such a memory evoked in her eyes struck a similar chord in him. He'd thought he'd never again see her dear face anywhere but in his dreams, and he remembered all too well willing her to look back at him as she'd rode out of his life on that cold, fateful day. He'd believed his heart frozen for good after that time, till today. Now it burned with all the warmth of the sun - today spring had come back to his soul. And it was the same for her - God, how had he suddenly become so fortunate?

"It was the same with me, my love. But never again will you ever doubt whether or not I wish to see you." And he punctuated such a vow with a kiss, reverently bestowed, since he knew he must now begin to rein in his passion for her - for now. He'd behaved recklessly at the train station this day, but he'd not have Margaret's honor questioned a second time in Milton.

She would be his in fact and in name soon enough - and then let people be shocked if John Thornton, the proud owner of Marlborough Mills, kissed his beautiful wife in public. Any man with a wife such as Margaret, he reasoned, would be just as eager to stake his claim on his woman for the benefit of any who might get ideas of stealing her away. Not that his Margaret would be such a flighty thing to have her head turned in such a fashion, but John was determined to take no chances with his future happiness.

After he reluctantly drew himself away from the sweet temptation of Margaret's lips, she'd sighed, the light in her eyes dimming somewhat. "You'll need to go see your mother right away, John. She's been beside herself all day, not knowing where you'd gone. You must set her mind at ease as soon as you step foot in town." Her voice held genuine concern for his mother, something that surprised him, given the palpable tension he'd sensed every time the two women had met. But... how could she know anything of his mother this day?

John gave voice to his question, and Margaret smiled sadly. "I told you I was in town earlier today. I went to the mill to seek you out... and my heart ached at how silent and still it all was. I kept seeing you there in my mind - standing so proud and stern watching the men work on the first day I saw you. I kept hoping I'd turn around and you'd be there. But instead, I happened upon your mother. She thought I'd come to triumph over your misfortune." She laughed ruefully. "I will say _this_ about your mother, Mr. Thornton. No man ever had a more passionate advocate than you have in her. I could feel she was afraid for you, but she would never admit it. She insisted that you would never... abandon her. I guessed what she meant by that, and I knew she was right. Your mother has her faults, but she loves you even if she doesn't show it. I was so blind... I don't know if she'll ever forgive me for not seeing in you what she always has. I don't know if I'll ever forgive myself." Her eyes lowered before his.

Gently, John lifted her chin to meet his eyes again. "You see me now, and that's all that matters, love. And my mother will see that, in time." He laughed suddenly. "I rose to prominence once with one formidable woman at my back. With two, I think I may be appointed Lord Chancellor by this time next year. What do you think about that, Miss Hale?" he teased.

Margaret giggled - a sound that pleased him immensely. "I now think there is an achievement you cannot attain, Mr. Thornton, so I suppose I must be prepared for the seeming inevitable."

John laughed at the teasing glint in her eyes. He loved this - this bantering spirit they both seemed to share. He'd been so pressed to be serious and focused on work and rising to a place of authority that he'd had no time for much amusement. Yet another gift Margaret had given him: the gift of laughter -which was more of a treasure that the world could place monetary value on. _What a gift you are to me, my love..._ he thought as he felt the train slow and the whistle blow.

Milton. They were home.

He exited the train first, and then turned to hand Margaret down. They stood there a moment, just looking at each other, not touching - yet John had never felt more connected to her. He was learning to read the emotions in her eyes, her expression - which told him at the moment that there was something she wanted to say but hesitated. Perhaps she was merely fatigued still after such a full day. "I will see about procuring us transport back to the mill - I do not think we should keep my mother waiting if she's worried as you say," he said.

"John -" she stayed him with a hand on his arm when he would have left her. "I..." she hesitated again, but then a look of resolve overtook her expression and she spoke."I would be grateful, sir, if you would escort me to the hotel in town. I... don't want your mother to feel as if I'm descending on her home intending to take everything away from her right off. I think you ought to speak to her first, and... If she doesn't want to see me, I will understand. I will even try not to take offense." she smiled, a small smile that seemed forced somehow.

"It's my home too, Margaret - and you're to be my wife. You have a right to be there as sure as I do," John reasoned, though he knew that Margaret's reasoning was also sound. She understood his mother more than his mother understood her - enough to respect her feelings in this matter.

"Please, John - I'm not just thinking about her feelings. I'm thinking about yours. I don't want today to be marred by unhappiness, and if I can spare you any of it, I'm going to do so."

Her eyes were beseeching him in a way he found hard to resist. He sighed, resigned. "You'll come to supper - I'll brook no argument on this point, Margaret," he told her firmly. "If you think I can go the rest of the day without seeing you after your being away so long, you're under a delusion. But you need some rest after such a long day, and I won't have your rest disturbed by any unpleasantness. I'll have my mother in a civil mood before I come to fetch you, I promise."

Now it was his eyes beseeching hers, and he felt her resistance leave her as she merely nodded. He took the hand resting on his arm and kissed it - briefly but with a passion he hoped she felt as much as he did. Walking side by side but no longer touching, they walk towards the line of waiting carriages. Margaret surreptitiously handed him a fiver to pay the driver with, and John had to swallow hard to take it. But take it, he did, and helped Margaret alight into the carriage before climbing in behind her.

As they rode through the familiar streets of Milton, John brooded. He'd need to get back on his feet running the mill as soon as possible, for his own peace of mind. He hated taking money from anyone - even the woman he loved who offered it so freely. He couldn't afford to be proud at the moment, but he was determined that it would not become a habit to take money from her. Once she got him started again, he'd prove worthy of the trust she apparently had in him to give her a return on his investments.

He _would_ - he would accept nothing less than that desired outcome. Because though he was loath to admit it, he was still afraid - afraid that he'd lose this precious reality if he didn't succeed this time. If the money did come between them - if this new-found respect and love she bore him disappeared if he failed her, he didn't know if he could rally from such a blow. This last time, he hadn't even dreamed of earning her love - to have it and then lose it would be... unthinkable. It simply would not happen. It _must_ not.

"John..." the sweet tones of his Margaret brought him out of his thoughts. "You're looking like the unhappy Mr. Thornton I left all those months ago instead of the man who spoke of his happiness and affection for me so eloquently earlier today. Forgive me if my request has upset you - if coming with you now would ease your mind, I will do so. We'll face your mother together, and perhaps it won't be as unpleasant as I anticipate."

John turned to look at her, and read sincerity in her face, despite the trepidation still present in her eyes. She thought him still worried about his mother's reaction. She thought him cross with her. Silly, precious girl. "Forgive me, my love," he shook off his brooding thoughts and just centered everything on her - the picture of his happiness and hope for the future. "My prospects have risen quite a lot than they were when I awoke this morning, and I don't think it's all sunk in my brain yet. It's naught to do with you, Margaret - nothing you've said or done. I... thank you for wishing to spare my feelings and my mother's. If anything, that proves you to be the opposite of her perception of you at present. No, I believe you have it right - let me bear the brunt of my mother's reaction. She is _my_ mother, after all. It is my duty to speak to her about all this first." he smiled ruefully.

"But she is to become _my_ mother as well - I have to learn how to live with her," Margaret began, but John laid a firm but gentle hand on hers. "Soon enough, you will - you'll rise to the challenge like you always do. But let me lay the foundation for it, so to speak - to make it as easy as possible for you. I've lived with my mother my whole life; I know how to speak to her."

The carriage stopped as he spoke. He left the carriage and walked quickly around to hand her out himself - not wanting even a hired porter to have the luxury of Margaret's touch that he himself craved. She looked into his eyes and smiled as she stepped down, and her hand held his a moment longer than was absolutely necessary. Just that innocent touch of her hand thrilled him to his core.

He pressed her hand reassuringly. "Rest now, Miss Hale. I'll come calling for you in a few hours."

She smiled, and returned the pressure to his hand. "I shall be waiting, Mr. Thornton."

Reluctantly, he let go of her hand and immediately felt bereft. But a challenge lay before him in the person of another person he loved - his mother. He hated quarrels with her if he could avoid them, and it pained him that his mother would disagree with his choice.

But as he looked behind him as the carriage drove in the direction of Marlborough Street, the reason he had the will to face his mother's displeasure was still standing there, watching him go. A lovely hand lifted and waved him farewell -only farewell, because no matter what his mother thought or said or did, Margaret Hale would be Mrs. Thornton before too long. That was the only thing John could be certain of at the moment.

_****Author's note: Here is the next chapter as promised! I hope it's as good as the first. It took me a couple of days, because of John's sudden mood change in the carriage. I suppose he wouldn't be John Thornton if he stopped**_ **_brooding altogether lol. but please let me know what you think!**_**


	3. Love and Prejudice

_***Author's note: Sorry for the delay in posting - I've been trying to balance work and packing in preparation to move to a new house next week. Plus I was quite intimidated at the very thought of trying to write such a perfectly complex character like Mrs. Thornton. Mrs. Gaskell wrote her brilliantly - I only hope my version of her does the character justice. **_

_** Oh, and next chapter I will be writing from Margaret's POV. I'm not intimidated by that at all... well maybe I am... lol. Anyway, _**Please let me know what you think!**_ ***_

_****edited for typos - entirely due to the rush. Sorry, I will be more vigilant for them in future.**  
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><p>As the carriage stopped at the gate of the now-deserted Marlborough Mills, John marveled anew at the turn his fortunes had taken in the course of a day. When he'd walked through these gates this morning, he'd been a poor man - a master neither of his mill or his own fate.<p>

But Fate or God had guided his steps this day - first to Helstone, Margaret's beloved former home. so different from Milton - it had been green, lush and warm. It had reminded John so much of the woman he loved who had missed that home of hers so dearly. After having seen it for himself, John could have hardly blamed her. For he had seen his own home with new eyes - dirty, cold, and noisy in comparison. So unlike the quiet peacefulness that had surrounded the parsonage when his love had grown up.

Little wonder Margaret had hated coming to Milton so much - why she had associated him with all of his home's imperfections. Why she had received his attentions with such distress - the thought of him and his love had repulsed her as surely as the town had. or so he had thought at the time.

Though later on, her manner to him had thawed somewhat, he had seen her walking with a man at night. A man he had naturally assumed was a lover. A young man, obviously gently born as she was. Everything he, John, was not. And when she'd left Milton after her father's death, John had been sure he would never see the woman he loved ever again. Visiting her old home had been the only way he could conjure up his memories of her during the day. It was the only balm that could temporarily dull the disappointment and loneliness that had punctuated every day since she'd disappeared from his life.

John stepped down from the carriage and took a deep breath. But now, all that was changed. He had the means to open the mill again. He had hope for the future. His heart was beating again for the first time in months. And it was all due to Margaret - his Margaret. If all she'd had to offer him was her love this day, he'd still be a wealthy man at this moment. But Fate had blessed her with material wealth and she, out of the goodness of her heart - nay, the love in her heart that she had for him - made it possible for him to keep a familiar roof over his mother's head and regain for himself his self-respect.

But his poor mother was still unaware of all this. Perhaps it had been unwise to not inform her of his plans to travel this day - but she would have never understood his motivations for his pilgrimage, and he'd not had the heart to argue with her. It had been something he had to do - no explanation would have been sufficient. But he had caused his mother worry, and now he must set all to rights.

"Mother!" he called out as he opened the door. "_John_!" He heard his sister's familiar shriek from the back of the house. John winced, but smiled all the same. Dear, impulsive, silly Fanny.

Footsteps thumped on the floorboards at a rapid pace, and soon his sister was hurtling into the hallway towards him. "John, wherever have you _been_? Mother has been frantic all day!" She regarded his unusual state of dress and her hands covered her cheeks in dismay. "You look such a sight - have you been set upon by _thieves_?"

His mother, following behind her daughter at her usual sedate pace, regarded him as well as she approached. Though there was nothing of the emotional frenzy Fanny had just spoken of, John could see the worry in his mother's dark eyes and see the unusual pallor in her cheeks. Margaret had been right to be concerned about her, and a rush of gratitude rushed over him. Though she had no reason to, Margaret had thought of his mother's well-being even before he had.

"I have come to no harm, and I merely removed my coat on the trip home entirely due to the heat of the day," he informed them, not wishing to disclose his happy news in the hallway. "Is there tea, mother? I'm afraid I've had nothing to eat today in my abstraction. And hadn't you better be off to care for your husband, Fanny? I've left a cab waiting if you wish to take it." he asked pointedly, not wishing for more of his sister's criticism this night.

"In case you have forgotten, Brother, Watson is wealthy enough to have _servants_ to care for his needs while I'm gone. I've been here comforting Mother while you've been out Heaven knows where, and-" Fanny began before her mother interrupted. "Thank you for your attention, Fanny - it was most appreciated. Now go home an' care for your husband as your brother asks." She instructed her daughter, and even Fanny knew better to disobey when Hannah Thornton spoke in such a decisive tone.

With a flounce of her fancy skirts and a clearly miffed sniff, Fanny left and closed the door behind her, perhaps a bit more loudly than was absolutely necessary.

His mother had already turned to the kitchen to fix his tea, and John retreated into the drawing room. Sitting down tiredly in his usual chair, John sighed, but only with physical weariness. His heart was lighter than it had ever been, and as he looked around the room that his mother had decorated in her usual taste, he was grateful that he no longer had to bear the pain of seeing his mother's precious things sold as well as the house - the home he would bring Margaret to live in as his wife soon as he was able.

His mother brought the tea in faster than he expected, including several buttered scones. Setting down the tray on a nearby table, John consumed two scones while his mother poured his tea. "I fear I've not had the heart to prepare our evening meal yet, not knowin' when' you'd be home," his mother explained, a clear question in her eyes.

"Where have you been, son?" she finally asked when John purposefully did not answer his mother right away. Ostensibly, he was drinking his tea and filling his empty belly - but truthfully, he was searching for the words to explain to his mother that their troubles were over. Though his mother would rejoice at the initial news, it was her reaction to the instrument of their salvation that gave him pause.

Finally, John set his tea cup done on the tray and sat back in his chair, regarding his mother. his mother's eyes had never left him - he had felt their gaze keenly. "I... took a trip south today, Mother. I... it was a hard thing, knowing how I'd failed you, and I was searching for the strength to face things for your sake. I know that my father hadn't found that courage, and I feared following in his footsteps if I did not gather myself together. I'm sorry for causing you worry, Mother. That was not my intention, but I did not wish to alarm you." That was as much of the truth as he could share with his mother as to his motivations for leaving as he had this day. Best not to mention Margaret just yet.

His mother shook her head. "Silly lad - as if I didn't already know you are twice the man your father was! I knew you'd see me right, I did," she told him proudly, though John saw in the unclenching of her hands what a strain she'd been under in his absence. She reached and laid a hand on his shoulder, her eyes shining with the pride and love that he knew she had for him. "Don't you mind about the loss of the mill, my son. You made yourself a name to be known in this town once - you'll do it again, and sooner than people would believe of you."

John smiled, glad she had broached the subject he wished to address before he had a chance. "Sooner than even you think, Mother. I believe we shall have the mill up and running within a week, at the very most." He touched the hand on his shoulder comfortingly. "It is you who does not need to worry anymore, Mother. We are saved - we will not lose the house, so you can unpack all that you've already packed."

His mother's eyes searched his, confusion etched on her face. "I don't understand you, John. Are you sure you feel well after gallivantin' all over today? Perhaps I ought to call for the doctor..." She would have risen from her chair, but John stayed her. "I'm well, Mother, I promise. Well and happier than I've been in months. And I meant what I said - the mill will be running again very soon and we will not be moving from this house. I... have received an unexpected offer of investment - at very generous terms - which I have heartily accepted. In fact, I have brought our savior to town with the promise of your renowned hospitality for dinner. But if it would be too much of an inconvenience at such a late hour -"

"Nonsense, John Thornton!" his mother immediately expostulated. "Perhaps it won't be a fancy dinner such as the gentleman might be used to, but..." Her entire countenance softened as she comprehended his words."We are saved?" She asked with a catch in her voice. "We are saved," he said simply, nodding for emphasis.

Mother nodded her comprehension, as pressing together of her mouth the only indication that the information. She stood abruptly. "At what hour is dinner expected, John? And where on earth did you leave the gentleman without offerin' our immediate hospitality? Surely, he'll receive the slight as ingratitude!" she exclaimed, her voice back to its usual business-like tone.

John had to chuckle at his mother's reference to a gentleman when he case was in complete opposite. "Dinner shall be at our convenience, as it was conceded that, upon hearing such news as I had, dinner would be delayed. There is no slight, perceived or expressed. Our guest is resting at the hotel, and I will fetch _her_ when you are properly prepared to receiver her," John told her, not wishing to keep his other news to himself a moment longer.

"_Her_?" his mother asked, narrowing her eyes at the word. "I believe we had a caller earlier today? When were you going to tell me that Miss Hale had visited the mill earlier?" He arched a knowing eyebrow at her, and she had the grace to flush at his words. "I didn't want to spoil your good mood, John. I know no one can mention her name without the hurt comin' into your eyes. Well, tis no matter - she won't need to look for a new tenant now, thanks to your good fortune! I wonder how she'll react to that, back in London with her high and mighty ways and fancy solicitor! I wouldn't be surprised if she married that long-faced Southerner before long - and to think she could have had you, if she'd been able to look past the end of that society nose of hers!"

It rankled John to see his mother's look of disdain and knew that his next words would cause her pain. But he'd once heard a learned doctor say that sometime, for a wound to heal, it must be wounded afresh. "Miss Hale will not be marrying Mr. Lennox, Mother - that I can assure you. She will be marrying me - and it is she who has saved us all, and who will be calling on us for dinner tonight. So I am afraid that you must learn to love her, after all - and I hope you will, if only for my sake." He sat back in his chair and waited for his mother's reaction.

It was extremely rare for his mother to be rendered speechless. Yet she merely stood in the middle of the drawing room, still as a statue and pale as chalk. John was about to ask if his mother was well, when she finally spoke. "Say it's not so, John. Anything but _that_! _That woman_! " Her eyes were filled with distress, and she sank back finally into her chair. "I told you and told you I didn't mind about the house and all - I wish it all gone and burned rather than you lose your self-respect. You earned every bit of your reputation in this town coming from nothin' - and now you talk of sellin' your soul and your good name for money. Marryin' that proud Southern gel - what an idea." She sniffed haughtily. "She wouldn't even _have_ you - she'd laugh in your face for certain this time, having nothin' but yourself to offer her. Now, I _won't_ have you hurtin' yourself worse - you must put that wretched gel out of your mind once and for all, John. Let's have no more talk of marrying her and her accursed money - I _won't_ have you marryin' beneath yourself for earthly gain. I _won't_ bear it, I tell you!"

His mother's impassioned words saddened John, but he knew how the situation looked, how it sounded. Indeed, he was not unaware what would be said of him behind his back - and to his face by the bolder of his acquaintances. That he'd turned mercenary and married an heiress for money out of desperation.

But he knew the story of his and Margaret's love was far too precious to be bandied about in society by those who would not understand what a miracle had happened to him this day. But his mother needed to understand. He would not stand to hear Margaret disparaged by her a moment longer.

"Mother, I encountered Miss Hale at one of the train stops on my return journey this afternoon," he told her. "Miss Hale explained that she'd been here earlier, looking for me to offer a business proposition of help. _That_ is why she brought her solicitor with her, not because of any personal attachment. And during our conversation, she informed me that her feelings for me had undergone a transformation so as to be prepared to accept my affections where she had once rejected them. As soon as it is appropriate, I am going to make her my wife, Mother. It is decided, and I wish you to be happy for me - be happy for _us_." He had never made a request to his mother that he had ever wanted more.

His mother was still for a moment. Unblinking. Then, she rose up stiffly, and turned towards the door. "I'll call Polly and begin the preparations for supper, John. You'll be needin' a rest after your long day." And without another word, she left the room, closing the door behind her.

John shook his head, saddened. He supposed it could not have gone any other way - but he also supposed it could have been worse. He'd done the best he could, but now it was Margaret's turn to try and win his mother over. And if she couldn't... John dreaded the thought that Margaret might change her mind, feeling the situation too intolerable to live with.

He could not abandon his mother to live with Margaret - nor could he ask Fanny to take his mother in, knowing full well Fanny would wish to run her own household. His mother would never be able to hold back her opinions and would drive poor Fanny to distraction. And his mother would be unhappy - the one person he had always hoped to make proud was disappointed in his choice - wrongly, but that did not change the fact.

John rose finally, the fatigue of the day finally beating down on him. He would do as his mother suggested and rest himself before preparing for tonight. _Margaret..._ despite the ache in his heart this discourse with his mother had wrought, the fact that Margaret was his still gave him hope that one miracle could give rise to another. And it would take a miracle for his mother to come to terms with the changes this day had brought.

But as he reached into his pocket as he climbed the stairs to his room and felt the soft petals of the roses he'd brought back from Helstone this day, he reminded himself that miracles always happened when they were least expected. he would have faith in Margaret - in their love - and in the love that he knew his mother had for him. Somehow, love would find a way.


	4. Dream in the Midst of Reality

****Author's Note: Forgive my long delay in posting - life's been rather hard the last few months. Really haven't had the heart or the time to write at all. But I'm back - hopefully the heart shines through these next few chapters.****

Margaret opened her eyes and looked about the room in slight confusion. The room was not the bedroom her aunt had given to her upon her return to London. If she rested in the afternoons, she was usually awoken by the bustling noise of the city streets as people made their way home after a long day.

But the sounds she heard outside her window were not those of London... and as Margaret woke more fully, she smiled at her remembrance of the day's events. She was home - in Milton. And the room she currently occupied was in Milton's finest hotel, the Ascott. And, Margaret looked hastily at the gilt clock on the end table, the gentleman who possessed her heart would no doubt be arriving soon to escort her to his home for dinner.

John... Margaret's heart sang at the thought of his name and the joy that he had given her today. When she had awoken this morning, she would never have hoped for such a pleasing turn of events. She had resigned herself these past months to never returning to Milton again after the death of her poor father - had resigned to never seeing John Thornton's face again or hearing the deep timbre of his voice.

She had believed that whatever good opinion he may have had of her previously had been lost after he had seen her that night at the train depot with her brother. Of course, she had realized how it must have appeared to him - a young woman alone at night with a strange young man. He was not to know that it had been her dear brother she had been embracing - no one in Milton knew of Frederick's existence, and with good reason.

Had Mr. Thornton discovered Frederick's identity - and connected him with the mutiny - he would have been honor-bound to take custody of him as Magistrate. John Thornton was known in the city as being a just and upright man, and Margaret had not doubted for a second that her beloved brother's liberty - and life - had hung in her ability to protect him, even at the cost of her own reputation.

And yet... when she had been questioned by the police inspector concerning the death of the man Leonards - who had died under mysterious circumstances that same night - she had nearly panicked. She had denied being on the platform, of course - loving her brother as she did, Margaret had always known she would perjure herself at any cost to herself to ensure his freedom. Mr. Thornton was the magistrate - he had seen her there, and had known she was lying. He would have had every justification to take his revenge on her by ruining her reputation forever.

And yet... he had closed the case before the inquest could be called, quieting the whole affair without exposing her falsehood. He had saved her - and, unknowingly, her brother. Margaret had not understood why at the time, except that she knew that Mr. Thornton was a kinder man than he would admit to being - and had been a good friend to her father. Perhaps he had done it merely to spare her father the grief of seeing her ruined socially - even if her sacrifice had been for Frederick's sake and gladly made.

Whatever the reason, she had looked on Mr. Thornton in a new light after that. He had had every reason to take his revenge for her admittedly harsh refusal of his suit, with no stain on his reputation. And the changes he had subsequently made at the mill to benefit his workers... taking Nicholas Higgins on again and taking an interest in young Tom Boucher. That is when Margaret's heart had begun to open to him - to recognize too late, as Mrs. Thornton had so pointedly put it, what kind of a man she had refused.

And when she had met him for the last time, shortly before her departure from Milton... her heart, already broken by her father's death, had further been wounded by the knowledge that she would never see the man she so admired again. She had had to steel herself to face him and give her father's Plato, a token she had known he would appreciate and treasure. She had not been able to look in his blue eyes - if she had, she would have broken down and Margaret would not have given Fanny and her mother the pleasure of seeing her weakness.

Margaret had walked away from him on shaking legs. She had climbed into the carriage and had not looked back as they drove away. She d wanted to - even if he were not standing there when she did, at least she could conjure his tall form in her mind once more and say goodbye to him in her heart. But her aunt had been fussing about the cold and her imaginary illnesses, and Margaret had forced herself to focus on attending to her.

And though Mr. Thornton's face had stayed in her mind all those long months in London, and though his voice echoed through her dreams, she had abandoned all hope of any further contact with him in this life. Until today.

When Henry had informed her this morning of yet another profitable investment of Mr. Bell's that had come to fruition - more money that would just lie in a bank uselessly - Margaret had been relatively indifferent. Until Henry had mentioned Mr. Thornton and his troubles - Margaret had known that, with his new change of heart, Mr. Thornton would never had gambled with his worker's livelihoods. Henry had attested to his principles, and the price they had cost him.

"You'll be looking for a new tenant soon, Margaret..." Henry had said, and had proceeded to consume his breakfast. Margaret had lost her appetite after hearing those words - and she had sat in her sitting room for no more than an hour when she had decided how she would act. As one of her financial advisors, she had approached Henry for aid, and though he had been surprised by her request, he had willingly agreed to help her. Together they had drawn up a proposal to invest in the mill - and in John Thornton. Then, no sooner had the ink dried on the paper, she and Henry had departed for the train station and boarded a train to Milton to lay the matter before Thornton at once.

Margaret's thoughts had whirled urgently as the train had carried her closer and closer to the town she felt to be her true home. Never mind that she could not bear the thought of being financially secure when so many lives depended on the mill's operation - she could not bear the idea that such a man as John Thornton could be brought so low for doing what was prudent and wise. He had worked so hard to make his mark in his industry - and she had the means to help him get back on his feet, and she would.

But for his sake, she would tell him it was strictly a business matter, Margaret had told herself firmly. Her personal feelings for him would not enter into it all - she would not humiliate herself by letting him know that she now saw him in quite a different light than she had before. No doubt, he'd moved on. Perhaps he was engaged or even married to Miss Anne Latimer - though Nicholas hadn't mentioned anything on the subject in his letters describing how he, Mary, and the Boucher children were faring. She could only hope that whatever his situation was, he would soon be content as well, once the mill started up again. If ever a gentleman deserved some happiness, John Thornton did...

Margaret rose, letting her mind continue to ponder the day's events as she tidied her hair and smoothed out her traveling dress in anticipation of John's arrival. Surely he would be arriving very soon - truly, he could not arrive soon enough.

When she'd arrived in Milton and viewed the tragic emptiness and silence of the mill today, his face... his stance... his voice had haunted her like a ghost. He'd disappeared, according to his mother, who had descended on her in the spinning room like a bitter black crow. Under Mrs. Thornton's bitterness, however, Margaret had seen the older woman s vulnerability - her love and obvious worry for her son. And that had tempered Margaret's usual irritation with her.

She'd left a message with her for Mr. Thornton to contact Henry about the proposal - Henry would be much better at explaining such things, anyway. As she'd walked back to the station with a heavy heart, she could only pray that wherever John was, he was well - and that he would return soon to ease his mother's deep concern at once.

She and Henry had not tarried further in Milton, though Margaret had winced at the thought of not stopping to see the Higgenses. Henry had had business back in London, and Margaret had promised to help Edith with little Sholto. Her aunt was giving a dinner tonight, one that Margaret had already decided she would not attend, knowing the attendees would have nothing stimulating in their conversations to tempt her.

When their train had stopped about halfway between Milton and London, and Margaret had exited the carriage to stretch her legs for a moment. And that's when she had seen him. He'd sat for a moment until the train carrying him on the opposite direction of hers slowed to a stop. He'd had a defeated, dejected air about him - and he'd looked slightly disheveled and unshaven with no cravat or coat. She'd never seen him in such a state - he looked worn and so tired. Beaten, even. Her heart had ached for all he must have been through.

His dear face had brightened upon spying her, and he'd quickly made his way towards her. She'd been admittedly nervous when speaking to him at first. But when he'd revealed to her when he'd been that day - to her childhood home at Helstone - her hands had trembled as she'd taken the precious flowers he'd offered her. The way he'd looked at her, just for a moment, she'd dared to hope...

But when he'd asked her why she'd gone to Milton, however, her mind had been shaken back to reality - and she'd begun to rattle on about her business proposition. Knowing she probably sounded like a fool, she'd turned towards her train to fetch Henry - but John had stayed with a gentle hand and asked her to explain things herself.

The intensity in his eyes had compelled her, even when she longed to run away. She was no coward, but oh, if he should somehow see how much it meant to her that he retain his position in Milton... how much his happiness meant to her, even if it meant being apart from him forever after. She had hardly dared look in his eyes as she explained her plan in halting, hesitant speech. She'd kept emphasizing that it was merely a business matter - that he would not be obliged to her, but rather she would be to him. It was a lie, and one that he must have immediately recognized when he had finally captured her gaze.

It had been those blue eyes - soft and full of light - and a smile that communicated his understanding that had broken her composure. With a sob, she'd bent her head and kissed his hand - his strong, capable hand that had slipped into hers. She loved him - she could no longer deceive herself - or him. Even if he could not love her anymore, she loved him with all of her heart and always would.

And then... Margaret's cheeks now flushed in the mirror's reflection as she regarded her herself. He had kissed her - a soft, gentle kiss at first. The touch of his lips upon hers had stirred all of her senses - the fact that people were probably staring all round them, that Henry was no doubt watching this very public display of affection, and that her aunt would be in hysterics when she found out... none of it had even registered in her mind. John's kisses had erased the whole world and all of the pain and loss she'd endured. He still loved her - surely reserved, proper Mr. Thornton would not have done such a thing if he were not as affected as she. After all that had happened, he still loved her.

Only vaguely had Margaret heard the conductor's announcement that her train was leaving. The only thought in her mind had been that she could not leave him behind again - whatever anyone else might think or say, this man was her happiness. She could not settle for mere contentment in London anymore - not after such a kiss and all the unspoken promises attached to it.

Mechanically, she moved away from John only for a moment to retrieve her bag - and to try to explain to poor Henry. But Henry had obviously assessed the situation already - he'd merely bid her a sad goodbye and handed her the bag. Poor Henry, Margaret sighed. He was a good man, and she hoped he'd be able to find happiness someday with a woman who loved him as much as she loved John.

Her poor, dear John - he had thought she'd abandoned him. He'd returned to his dejected state as he'd stood by his own train. It would take time, Margaret knew, for him to trust in the love she now had for him. The light in his eyes that had returned when he realized she meant to go with him had warmed her inside almost as much as his embraces had. She had never been so sure of anything in her life but that her future lay with this man and coming home with him was her best choice for happiness.

As they'd talked and kissed during the trip back to Milton, he'd assured her in simple words that were yet poetry to her ears that he loved her still - that he still wanted her for his wife if she would have him. He thought himself unworthy of her in his current financial situation - but what did money matter when his touch and his nearness made her feel like she could spread her arms and fly to the heavens? She had accepted him, of course - gratefully. She knew she did not deserve to be so happy after how she'd treated him, misunderstood him - but he'd merely averred that the past was done, and their future was before them. A future together...

Margaret abruptly returned to the realities of the present as a knocked sounded upon her door. Opening it, she found a smiling young maid standing there. "Beggin' yer pardon, Miss. Mr. Thornton be expectin' ye in the parlor," she said. "Thank you - tell him I shall be down directly," Margaret said, slipping a sixpence into the girl's palm for her pains. "Yes, Miss. Thank ye, Miss!" the girl bobbed a curtsey and disappeared down the hall.

Closing the door again, Margaret smiled and leaned against the door. He was here - she hadn't just dreamt it all. Now, if only she could manage to not allow his disapproving mother - for she could be nothing else at such news - to ruin the evening, everything would be all right. John believed it, so she must also.

Margaret took up her hand bag and squared her shoulders. She always felt as if she were going into battle when meeting Mrs. Thornton. But tonight she would have John by her side, and if Hannah Thornton valued her son's happiness as she herself did, they would use that common ground and find yet more. Hopefully - because Margaret dreaded any other outcome.

But that was a situation yet to be faced. Margaret left her room and hurried down the stairs as fast as she could without causing comment. Her love was waiting for her, and she would not keep him waiting any longer.


	5. Calm before the Storm

John smiled as Margaret entered the room. How was it possible that she was even lovelier than when he'd left her here only a few hours before? She drew near to him, her eyes bright and a smile on her rosy lips - lips that John had to restrain himself from kissing. Damned social conventions...

He had to settle for kissing her white hands fervently, looking into her eyes while he did so. Her face flushed modestly, but she did not pull away from him. "Miss Hale, may I say how lovely you're looking this evening?" he asked in a rough voice.

Margaret laughed a little. "I'm afraid your eyesight must be failing, sir. I've done the best I could with my appearance, but my dress is irredeemably dusty from travelling today. Your mother will think you've brought a wild woman from the hills to dinner," she told him saucily, not letting go of his hands.

John loved the feeling of her hands in his, and he squeezed them affectionately. "You can't have had a mirror on hand if you think that. I was just thinking to myself that you were even lovelier than when I'd left you just a short time ago. I don't even think I noticed the dress - I find my gaze has become rather imprisoned by a lovely pair of eyes and entrancing lips." he told her quietly, aware of his need for decorum in the parlor with other guests looking on.

He smiled as her cheeks flushed again. He'd never been a very social kind of man, and all the refined women he'd ever known expected him to be able to converse about every subject under the sun at great length. Fanny always found fault with him when he did answer her endless chattering. Her friends and social acquaintances either ignored him completely when they came to call, or felt slighted when he could add little to the trivial conversation at hand. His mother was more like him - plain spoken and honest when she needed to be, and else silent though still attending to events around her.

But with Margaret, he found compliments tripping off his tongue before he had time to rehearse them in his head to make sure he didn't sound a complete fool. She'd no doubt just come from the center of the most intelligent and the wit of society London, and here was a lovesick Northern fool who'd cast conventions to the wind not a few hours before and embraced her in a public place - had asked her to marry him on a train, rather than in a romantic garden by moonlight.

And yet, the way she looked at him... John felt as if he were the cleverest man in England under her admiring gaze. She certainly didn't seem annoyed by his awkward attempts at flattery. What a change her feelings had undergone, indeed. He could hardly believe it, but he knew it was the truth.

"Come, Miss Hale - our carriage awaits. My mother will be delighted to see you, he said in a louder voice for the benefit of prying ears. For his own part, he cared not what they thought - but he was ever mindful of Margaret s reputation. Without another word, he guided one of her hands to the crook of his arm and reluctantly relinquished the other one as he led his love out of the parlor and towards the door of the hotel.

Margaret laughed - a little nervously, John noticed. "I doubt that very much sir - if her reaction was anything like my aunt's to my - our - news, then I am sorely afraid of indigestion this evening, no matter how good the food may be." Her grip on his arm tightened, echoing her words.

John did not reply until the carriage conveying them to his home began to move. "My mother was... most surprised, I will admit. She fears you may break my heart again, despite my reassurances that you now hold it as precious as your own. But she will see it in your face and in your eyes when she sees you tonight. It's plain as day to me." He could not see her clearly in the darkness of the carriage to know if she blushed again. "But you spoke of your aunt - you've contacted her then?"

"I sent her a telegram before I went up to rest -I thought she ought to hear it from me rather than just from Henry. And her reply was not unexpected - that it was unladylike and thoughtless to behave in such a manner, and she thought that my new-found wealth had gone to my head. She only hopes that I will not completely compromise my virtue before she has a chance to persuade me out of my impetuousness." John spotted Margaret s grin as the moonlight briefly crossed her face.

John smiled. "I believe my mother will be ample chaperone for us tonight, my love. I'm... sorry that your family will object to your choice of a husband. I suppose it was to be expected..." he said, feeling disappointed nevertheless. Keenly disappointed - whether he'd have ever admitted it aloud or not, he'd always considered himself to be respectable. But, he supposed, her relatives knew of his financial straits and wanted a wealthier, well-born husband for Margaret. And surely, she was such a lady as to deserve such a man.

"My parents married for love as well, John. My aunt could never understand my mother's choice, either. It was to be expected that she would not immediately understand mine - but I do hope, when they come to know you, they will find at least a few redeeming qualities in you before disowning me completely." Had he not heard the irony in her voice, he might have taken her seriously.

"You're sure, Margaret? You have such a generous heart, but I can't guarantee you a life of ease with the state of the industry right now. There are now rumblings of discontent in America over the slavery policy in the South and the entire cotton market may very well crash if it's not resolved." John couldn't bring himself to say more. He couldn't imagine life without this woman by his side, but he'd hate it even more if she ever regretted her choice.

Her warm, slim hand covered his. "I was the daughter of a minister, John. I've heard the marriage rites enough to know that such vows as must be made should not be taken lightly. 'Marriage was ordained for the mutual society, help, and comfort that the one ought to have of the other, both in prosperity and adversity.' So before I promise in church to love and honor you as long as we both shall live, I want you to know immediately that that is my intention - now and always."

Her hand squeezed his. "My mother followed my father here when he chose to leave the ministry, even though it brought her no joy and led to her untimely death. So would I follow you to the ends of the earth, John Thornton. I fear no future for myself except the one that does not have you in it."

John swallowed hard. "Margaret..." his voice was hoarse. In his wildest dreams, he had never imagined she would love him that much. He knew of no other woman whose love would be so brave.

"Whoa!" The driver pulled up to the gates of Marlborough Mills before he could utter another word. In a daze, he helped Margaret down from the carriage and paid the driver. "Welcome to your future home then, my love." "Home," Margaret breathed. "it will be wonderful to call someplace home again," she smiled up at him, even though he could tell she was still nervous. He bent his head to kiss her briefly in reassurance.

"John!" His mother's strident tones caused him to pull back just before their lips met. Bloody rotten timing, he inwardly groaned.

Margaret straightened her shoulders and nodded hesitantly at his mother, who seemed to loom large in the shadow of the open door. "Mrs. Thornton, thank you for your kind invitation to dinner tonight. I hope-"

"Dinner's been kept waitin' long enough, John." his mother clipped out before turning to go back into the house. John closed his eyes. This meal would not be an easy one. He said a silent prayer as he led Margaret into his home that the tone of this evening would change and his mother would accept the inevitable. Because if Margaret was determined to follow him to the ends of the earth, John was just as determined to make sure she never had to. 


	6. Storm Breaks

Hannah Thornton pursed her lips tightly as she walked into the house. She'd just encountered her only son in a passionate embrace with that Hale girl. Shameful hussy, she'd already set to using her seductive talents to entice her John into breaking the rules of propriety before the sun had barely set on her supposed engagement day. Nothing like a woman to addle a good man's brain into doing what he oughtn't. Her son was the most practical and prudent of men, but even the best could be led astray, just as Adam had been led out of Paradise because of Eve.

Well Miss Margaret Hale was not mistress of this house yet, and Hannah was determined that all of the proprieties would be observed under her roof. She would not take this Southern high flyer's worldly airs lying down for a moment. She might be free to think she could buy her son's love with her fortune, but Hannah would see that John's true mettle proved otherwise. She would not bear the shame of seeing her proud son cowed by feelings, however sincere, that would quickly cool once the mill was up and running again. Then the man she'd raised would return to his senses, and Miss Margaret Hale would discover that it would he who held the power their marriage as was fitting - and it would be he who held the purse strings as well.

She heard whispered conversation behind her as she called for Cook and Jenkins to begin serving the evening meal. Her son's sudden announcement this day had thrown her dinner plans awry - she had instantly determined that, if the haughty Miss Hale was to join their meal, the fare offered her - if plain and unfussy - would at least be as good as anything she'd have in that fancy aunt's house in London. Along with a loaf of bread freshly baked, Hannah had ordered Jenkins to boil the roast that had been previously reserved for the next day's repast along with baked new potatoes. Preceding the roast would be an ox-tail soup, and following it, a plain salad - it had been a mercy that there's been enough decent vegetables for it. Then, dessert - a surprise she'd made herself to cheer her son's spirits before she'd discovered him so markedly changed upon his return. Even now, a part of her still looked forward to his face when he laid eyes on it.

Without ceremony, Hannah sat down at the table in her usual place, to the right of John's accustomed chair. She scrutinized the table careful, looking for anything out of place. She'd not have Miss Hale finding fault with her hospitality for an instant, grudgingly given though it was. She studiously avoided that lady's gaze as John pulled out the chair opposite and helped her to sit, like the gentleman he was. "I can smell dinner from here, Mother - can't help my mouth from watering at the thought of it." he exclaimed as he took his place at the head of the table.

Hannah's heart warmed a little at her son's appreciation, though she did not outwardly show it. Her son knew how much his appreciation meant to her - she didn't need to to broadcast it to the world. She merely nodded to show her acknowledgement and began conscientiously unfolding her napkin, deliberately ignoring the woman sitting across from her.

After a tense, quiet moment, John spoke again. "Mother, Miss Hale and I-" But he stopped abruptly as Jenkins and Cook entered with the steaming soup tureen and began to serve it. Good lad, Hannah thought. He knew better than to speak of personal matters in front of the servants. She heard Miss Hale's quiet "Thank you" to Jenkins as she was served. Good lass, she was. Having to cope with the household chores as well as doing the serving now that the rest of the servants had been let go, she'd done as fine a job as any. And from the aroma of the soup in front of her, Cook had outdone herself as usual with what she'd had to work with, as always.

It was a matter of pride to Hannah that she could boast of having the most efficiently run household in town, even if she did not currently have as many servants as Fanny now had as mistress of Watson's fine house. But then, poor Fanny never was much of a manger - her many servants ran amok and Fanny was always complaining that things never ran as smoothly as they did here at home. It never occurred to her that the only way to a well-run house was to train the servants well. Hannah had certainly tried, but her feather-brained daughter had never paid much attention, preferring fashion magazines and shopping. Sometimes Hannah wondered how such a thoughtless, impractical child could be sister to her practical, responsible John!

As soon as the door clicked shut, Hannah immediately bowed her head and waited for John to say the grace, as befitted the man of the house. "Bless, O Lord, Thy gifts to our use and us to Thy service; for Christ s sake. Amen." His deep voice intoned after a moment, with more feeling than he had used in a long while. As Hannah raised her eyes, she surreptitiously took in Miss Hale's appearance and manner before busying herself with her soup. Still wearing the green traveling dress she'd been wearing earlier in the day - Hannah inwardly sniffed that the gel should have jumped so quickly at the opportunity to snare her son and ingratiate herself here in his house without even a thought for what she was wearing. No doubt, she had a wardrobe filled with fripperies from the best shops that would have even outshone Fanny's best and would not hesitate to flaunt her wealth before the whole town if given the chance.

It rankled Hannah still that Mr. Bell's ownership of the mill had passed to Miss Hale upon his death. Such an unfortunate turn of events that had only aggravated her feelings for the young lady. For Margaret Hale had been toying with John's affections for months, and it had pained Hannah so to see the torment on her son's handsome face. Any other woman in town - no, any decent young lady in the Empire - would have welcomed his attentions with pleasure and gratitude. But despite her father's disgrace and financial humbling, Miss Hale had still proved proud and pretentious in all her dealing with the people of this town. Influenced, no doubt, by her sickly, slightly foolish mother and her wealthy relations in London.

If it was one thing she couldn't stand, it was pretension of being better than one was - life was about knowing one's rightful place and staying in it. Though it were wrong to speak ill of the dead, Mr. Hale's choices had brought him low - and his family with him. Had she and John been forced into reduced circumstances as they'd expected to before this day, they would have borne it with dignity and humility, as common folk ought to. But that Miss Hale should reject her son's advances and offer of a most advantageous alliance due to his low birth and trade background, breaking his dear heart not once, but twice when she left him for glittering London.

Now she flounces back into town today with her fancy solicitor with the intention of buying her son's gratitude when he was at his lowest. Hannah had thought she had warned Miss Hale off when she'd caught the gel wandering through the empty mill earlier today. Miss Hale had at least had the decency to admit that the sight of her son's downfall was pitiable, and that she understood what kind of man she'd refused. But it had been delivered with that same air of cool haughtiness that had always irritated Hannah. Even while she had not been able to hide her worry over her son's unexplained disappearance, she had shied away from any kind of sympathy Miss Hale had thought to extend. She'd been glad to see the back of the girl as she and her fancy Mr. Lennox had made their way to the train station.

And yet, here she was returned - with her son in tow, proclaiming that not only had her son accepted the offer of investment from Miss Hale, but somehow had become entangled in an engagement with her. Hannah could not understand it - but then she wouldn't understand the intrigues and games that spoiled girls from the South were said to play with their suitors. Perhaps she was just using her son to make Mr. Lennox jealous over some lover's tiff. It wouldn't surprise Hannah at all if that were the case. But Margaret Hale had meddled with her son's heart for the last time - a mother knew how to protect her child to the ends of the earth, and there was no mother's love stouter than hers.

Her thoughts were interrupted by John's satisfied groan. "Ah Mother - you and Cook have both done yourselves proud. I can't remember when I could say I've been better fed!" he said, sitting back in his chair. Hannah had hardly noticed the main course being served, or the inconsequential and infrequent conversation that had taken place during it. The weather, the state of the roads, idle happenings from the day. John had done most of the talking - trying, Hannah had sensed, to involve both her and Miss Hale in the same conversation to relax the atmosphere. Here he had failed - and so had the young lady, when she had dared attempt any kind of inquiry of her. Hannah had had no intention of ruining the meal she'd planned so carefully with that which needed to be said. And say it she would - never let it be said that she wasn't an honest, plain-speaking woman.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it, John," she said stiffly, rising as she did so. "I'll send Jenkins in with your brandy while Miss Hale and I withdraw and discuss your... news. I'll call for the tea and dessert when you join us."

John looked for a moment as if he were about to argue, but thought better of it. "I'll only be a few moments, ladies," he nodded and smiled fondly at Miss Hale, who looked apprehensive even as she followed Hannah out the door. Intelligent girl, Hannah thought wryly. At least she was woman enough to be prepared for the battle of wills that was in front of her.

It was a relief that John had let them go so easily, for there was no way she'd be able to say her piece with him in the room. As addled he was at the moment, her son did not have a clear enough mind. Hopefully the brandy would cure that - and by the time he returned, Miss Hale would rightly understand where Hannah stood on the matter and clear off, even if it meant losing the financial arrangement she'd concocted with her fancy lawyers. Hannah bit her lips as she sat down and faced Miss Hale, now seated on the settee opposite her chair. John'd not be happy, but it was for the best. Better respectable poverty than stooping to make himself a mercenary to this young woman's manipulative generosity.

"Miss Hale," Hannah began without preamble. "You can imagine the shock with which I reacted when my son made his announcement to me this evening regardin' your 'engagement,'" she sneered the last word. "I don't pretend to understand your motivations, but let one thing be made perfectly clear - I'm done watchin' you toy with my son's affections. If you think such a man as he can be bought with promises of money, you clearly do not know him as well as you pretend to do. But I won't stand for it. I won't stand to see his heart get trampled on a second time - I won't stay silent. Come to the point, Miss Hale - I'm askin', if ye have any decency in that proud heart of yours, you'll break this engagement this very night, leave this town first thing tomorrow an' never look back!"

_****Dun, dun dun... **_**lol I promise I won't keep you all in suspense for long as far as Margaret and John's reaction to _that_!****


	7. A Hurricane in My Heart

Margaret was stunned as she listened to Mrs. Thornton's words. She had expected that Hannah would not be overjoyed at the news of their engagement. But she had been counting on the older woman's respect for her son - that his obvious happiness would temper her reaction. No such luck was to be had tonight, however.

That Mrs. Thornton believed that she was deliberately toying with John's emotions... that she believe Margaret would stoop to such a low measure as buying his affections - as if such a thing were possible, and Margaret was sure that it was not. John had too much self-respect for himself - too much honor. And if had been merely financial gain he'd wanted, he could have married Anne Latimer months ago. And Margaret knew in her heart of hearts that she could never love or respect any man as her partner in life if their marriage had been based on anything but true and deep affection, just as her parents' marriage had been.

Hannah Thornton still did not know her at all, despite Margaret's attempts to prove that her former opinions and attitudes had undergone a change in the last year. She could not help that she was from the South - she could not help her mother's background or her father's departure from the church, or her brother's legal troubles. The only thing she could help, in fact, was her own behavior - and granted, she had mistakes - but she had owned to them and tried to do better- something Mrs. Thornton had yet to do.

Mrs. Thornton had been watching her face after making her sudden pronouncement and now her dark eyes glowed with triumph. "You know I'm right, Miss Hale. You think I couldn't see what you were about. But a mother knows how to protect her children from themselves - John himself will come to see my wisdom in time. You weren't here to see the pain in his eyes. He couldn't bear to even hear your name mentioned - worked himself to the bone to forget. Losin' the mill could've done him in - twould've broken a lesser man for sure. But my John's made of stronger stuff. He'll survive just fine without it - he'll build himself up again in one way or another. And he'll do it on his own merit, on his own terms - not by sellin' his soul to you or any other."

By now, Margaret had ceased to register the hurt that the hurt that these words inflicted on her- now her temper had been aroused. She rose to her feet, hands clenched, and opened her mouth to tell this Hannah Thornton exactly what she thought of her. She could keep her sour opinions to herself - John loved her and she loved John back. He knew she wasn t trying to buy him - and she knew that he could be successful at whatever he put his talents to without her help. And if Hannah Thornton couldn't reconcile herself to their new-found happiness, then she could-

Then her eyes alighted on a small golden frame sitting unobtrusively on the table next to her adversary. It was one of those fashionable daguerreotypes - a posed picture of John, Fanny and their mother that looked like it couldn't have been more than a couple of years old. Hannah was seated and facing the camera, stone faced as always. Fanny stood to Hannah's right, also facing the camera and smiling in her childish, pouty way. But John... one hand rested on his mother's shoulder, and his dark head was bent down, looking in her direction. The devotion he felt to her was written all over his expression.

The bitter words that had been about to fly from Margaret died on her lips. Though her faults might be many, Hannah Thornton loved her son. John loved her as well. And this discord that was between her and Margaret was going to wound him when he joined them at any moment. Margaret had anticipated this happening, but he had been so hopeful today. He'd feel like he'd have to choose between the two women he loved most in the world. And either choice would make him unhappy in the end.

Tears filled Margaret's eyes, but she refused to let them fall. This was a time when strength, self-control, and calm needed to come to the fore. It would break her heart - never mind his. But she would not let the woman before her win... completely. If she was going to leave as Mrs. Thornton wished, it would be on Margaret's terms. She had come to Milton with a purpose this day, and before she left it - for good - she would see it done. She'd have the rest of her life to cry and mourn over what she was about to give up.

"Mrs. Thornton, you have insulted me in nearly every way possible this evening. Moreover, whether you realize it or not, you have insulted the son you profess to love so much. He has a fine mind, a strong will, and honorable heart. He would never sell his honor like a mercenary - he has far too much pride ad dignity for that."

The door behind her opened, and Margaret sensed that the gentleman in question was entering the room. She didn't dare look at him - did not acknowledge his presence or else she would never have the courage to say what she must. "As I assured him today, it would be he who was doing me the service by taking what I offered - in a business partnership. I expected _nothing_ more than that - but your son offered me in return much more than what I offered him. He offered me his heart - a heart that I was completely unworthy of, as _you_ remind me so often." She spat out bitterly.

"But I am prepared to prove just how much I love your son in return - even though it is not in a way that I would wish. Because I _will not_ force him, as _you_ will, to choose between us. I _will not_ ask him to be unhappy because you cannot forgive the error in judgment I fully admit to making concerning him previously. And _I_ will not withhold my offer to help him regain his position because _you_ have declared that my marriage to your son is, in a word, impossible."

"Margaret?" John's voice was shaking as he stood behind her. Margaret trembled for a moment - how she would miss the sound of his voice, his arms around her. His eyes... she must not look in his eyes or she would never be able to finish. She fumbled in her hand bag. Her hand closed on the legal documents Henry had helped her draw up in London just this morning. Taking them out, her hands slightly shaking, she held them out to Mrs. Thornton.

"These documents outline what my financial advisers tell me is a most generous offer to your son to get the mill running again. He has only to sign them, and apply to Mr. Lennox in London for them to be legally binding. I... She swallowed hard before continuing. "Any further agreement which may have been made this day, your son is released from it, with no stain on his character. And... I wish him nothing but success and all the best in everything."

"_Margaret_! What are you saying?" She felt, rather than saw, John coming near her. He was upset, angry - his voice nearly shook the room. She lifted her chin defiantly at Mrs. Thornton, who looked visibly taken aback at the speech she'd just made. "If your son is unhappy in the future, Mrs. Thornton, you have no one but yourself to blame. _No_ woman - if such a creature exists - will love him for himself as much as I do. I will love him - _only_ him - as long as I live." She choked on the words, knowing they would always be true, and yet must never be spoken aloud again. "And now, by your leave, I'll do as you ask and leave you to explain my sudden departure to your son."

Margaret turned around, closing her eyes and moving forward. "Margaret. _Margaret_!" His hand took hold of her elbow and swung her around, but she laid a hand on top of his. "Please, John." She sighed heavily. "Mr. Thornton. Please don't follow me - if you love me."

Each syllable was painful to utter. He would never forgive her for hurting him a second time - he would think she was throwing away the heart he'd so freely given him earlier today. Was it only a few hours ago? He would not see right away that this was the best way she could show him just how much she did love him. She'd heard Dixon say once that loving someone meant being willing to let go for the other's benefit. That's what Margaret intended to do. _Would_ do.

John hadn't yet let go of her arm - he was so still, so quiet. She couldn't bear to look at his face. So she merely gently pulled away from him and walked on shaking legs down the hall and towards the front door. Dimly she could hear John's raised voice echoing down the hall behind her, and his mother's answering voice - cajoling, insisting that she'd only done what she thought best.

Margaret opened the door, took a deep breath of cool night air. It chilled her- but then, she was already going cold inside. She would go back to the hotel, allow herself tonight to cry. Then tomorrow, on the train ride back to London, she would make her plans. Plans for a new life outside of England. As far away from Milton as she could get. Distance would not soothe the searing ache in her heart, but it would perhaps help her find some peace someday. She would never marry - but she'd have the memory of today to remember every time she missed John. As she missed him already at this moment.

She started forward, determined to leave with dignity - like a lady. She wanted to scream, to cry, to throw something. But she wouldn't - she would walk away from here, head held as high as she could. Wouldn't let the tears fall until she returned to her hotel room. She would be brave. For _him_. For his sake.

Then she heard his voice behind her, calling her name. "Margaret! Margaret, my love. _Margaret_!" His agitated voice sounded closer and closer with every word.

The tears began to fall. But she kept walking.

****Author's note: Sorry about that lol. It's crazy when your characters do and say things that you don't intend. I kept trying to change it, but Margaret was quite adamant. John's going to set things right, next chapter, I promise. And Mrs. Thornton is going to be very sorry that she interfered lol. I'll start working on the next chapter right away, don't worry! :)****


	8. Torn Between Two Loves

"_Margaret_!"

John called her name again as he strode purposefully after her. She didn't turn around, didn't stop. The memory of her carriage leaving him behind flashed through his mind. The despair he'd felt when he thought he'd never see her again- feeling that he could never again approach her to see if he could win her heart. He had willed her to look back at him, but she hadn't. Now it was happening again. But this time, he wouldn't let her get away. Never again.

"Margaret!" He finally caught up with her just outside the mill gates and took her arm, as he had just a moment ago in the drawing room. Then, she had begged him not to follow her if he loved her. Which had been an absurd thing for her to say - almost as absurd as the idea that she could take back her acceptance of his proposal while admitting in the next breath that she would love only him forever. "Margaret, look at me. "

Slowly, she turned, and he saw the tears sliding down her cheeks. She still wouldn't meet his eyes. "Mr. Thornton, please-" He interrupted her before she could continue. "It's _John_, Margaret. No more Mr. Thornton. We are _not_ going back to the way things were before today," he told her in no uncertain terms.

Margaret sighed, tears still flowing down her face. "You can't possibly want me to stay after what I just said to your mother. I've given you your freedom... I thought -"

"And what if I don't _want_ my freedom, Miss Hale?" he asked, stepping closer to her. "My mother might think she has some say in who I wed, but she's mistaken. I've made my choice - and I choose the woman who said tonight that no woman could love me for myself the way you do. That's what I want, and what I intend to _have_, Margaret. I let you leave these gates without me once, I won't make such a mistake again."

He stepped even closer, his arm wrapping around her waist. She didn't resist him, but still wouldn't look at him. Releasing her arm, he lifted her chin gently with his hand till their gazes met. Her eyes were filled with unshed tears, but they were bright with what he knew was her love for him. "You love me, Margaret?" He asked, already knowing the answer, but needing to hear it again.

Her gaze faltered. "Your mother-" "Forget my mother for a moment, and tell me what _you_ want!" he insisted. Margaret's voice quavered. "I don't want you to have to choose between her and me. I don't want to leave. I don't want you to be unhappy. I just want - I just love you. But-"

John cut her rambling off by covering his mouth with his. She loved him - that knowledge filled him with such joy. There were no arguments that could contradict how right and good this was. Margaret was his match in every way, even apart from the powerful physical attraction that burned between them. Her innocent response to him was so honest and passionate. If she thought he would let her go after this, she was mad.

Only when his feelings threatened to overstep the absolute boundary of decency did he take his lips from hers. His breath came fast between his lips and his heart was racing. He looked down at Margaret and saw, to his masculine satisfaction, that she was just as discomposed as he. Her cheeks were flushed and her sweet mouth was red from his fervent kisses.

"Oh Margaret..." he whispered, reaching up to caress her shining hair. "Nothing matters but what we have here. As you love me, and as I love you more than life, we'll be married- there is no question of that. _No_ question," he said again, as Margaret opened her mouth to argue with him again.

Realizing at last the public setting of their rather intimate conversation, John immediately offered Margaret his arm. "Come, my love. The streets are not safe - that you would have dared walk back to the hotel alone..." The thought of what could have befallen such a beautiful woman walking alone in the street made his blood run cold. Never would he allow her to take such risks with her safety again.

They walked quietly through the streets - unhurriedly, so as not to arouse any unnecessary suspicion. John gloried in the mere touch of her arm on his, knowing that he'd be the only man to know such happiness. He looked down at Margaret, only to see a rather serious look on her face. Not unhappy, as she'd been earlier, but serious, and he wondered what she was thinking. Was she still thinking of a way to escape their engagement? Perhaps after the confrontation with his mother, the thought of living in the same house with her wouldn't be a palatable idea. Well he'd settle things with his mother as soon as he delivered Margaret safely to the hotel. John set his mouth in a grim line.

"Evenin' Mr. Thornton!" A voice called out of the darkness. John froze, his hand tightening on Margaret's arm. It was Constable Greenwood, out on his patrol. He saluted as he drew near. "Ah, good evening, Constable. The streets are rather quiet this evening - due to the coolness of the weather, no doubt," John blithely commented as the young man approached them. If they acted as if there were nothing amiss about his escorting a lovely young lady through the city streets in the evening, the less of a scandal it would cause, he reasoned.

"Aye, that be the truth sir, an' no mistake," the constable exclaimed. He tipped his hat to Margaret. "Evenin', miss. Why, it be the young Miss Hale - we had all heard you'd gone back to the South for good. Spoke to Higgins the other day, I did - didn't mention you'd be visitin'!" His tone held an slight note of curiosity.

Margaret flushed. "My visit was rather unexpected - I did not have the chance to visit Nicholas and the children yet." she explained genially. "I have been dining with Mr. Thornton and his mother - the night was so fine that he decided to escort me back to my hotel on foot rather then call for a carriage."

She blushed and looked up at him. John couldn't help but smile at her. She was not ashamed of walking out with him, even though it was not yet know in town that he would be financially solvent again as soon as the business papers were signed. whatever was weighing on her mind at the moment, she loved him and was proud to be seen with him.

"You'll be the first to congratulate us, Constable," he announced proudly. "Miss Hale has done me the incredible honor of promising to be my wife." John stressed the word _wife_, ensuring that the constable understood the situation correctly. As magistrate, John had an example to set for the community - but even if he were not, he was ever cautious of Margaret's reputation. It had been foolish to walk about the streets this night thinking they would go unnoticed - but at least their witness was a respectable man of the town who would be discreet.

"Well I'll be a - well, isn't that fine news!" the constable exclaimed, reaching out to shake John's hand vigorously. "I dare say, sir - if you had to pick a bride from the South, you couldn't have picked a fairer one! If you don't mind me sayin' it, of course," Constable Greenwood congratulated him sincerely. "Well, I won't keep you more, sir - miss. Good evenin' to you both again," he tipped his cap again as he walked in the direction he'd come from.

Margaret sighed in obvious relief as they began to walk arm in arm again. "I must say, I am quite thankful for your unimpeachable reputation at the moment, Mr. Thornton. I doubt the constable would have been quiet as effusive in other circumstances." There was a note of teasing in her voice, so John didn't worry that she was concerned over the potential for gossip. "Yes, while I do believe in maintaining reputation for it's own sake, it does come in handy on occasion," he teased back, looking down at her.

Her expression had relaxed somewhat, but there was still a seriousness in her eyes that made him wonder. But he dared not ask her to speak her thoughts, lest they be forced to revisit the subject of what had transpired in the drawing room. That was a conversation for tomorrow- after he had dealt with his mother's behavior. No, he would not spoil this idyllic moment with Margaret, not for the wide world.

When they reached the hotel, John did not dare embrace her as familiarly as he had earlier, but his eyes did not leave hers as he kissed her hand fervently. "Sleep well, my love - and do not worry about anything tonight. I will call on you in the morning and we will make our plans," he promised, his hand still holding onto hers. He wasn't willing to let go of her until he absolutely had to.

"I... hope you sleep well also, Mr. Thornton," Margaret said quietly. Then even more quietly - so the he had to lean in to hear her next words. "Whatever happens tomorrow, I do not regret what has happened today... _John_," she almost whispered his name. His name on her lips was truly sweeter than music.

"Goodnight, my Margaret," he murmured. He could tell by the shining light in her eyes that she heard him. "Goodnight," she whispered, and reluctantly, he let her go. He watched and made sure that she entered the hotel in safety, then stood there for a moment, just letting the day's events sink in.

When he'd awoken this morning, he'd been depressed and uncertain of his future. Margaret had been far out of his reach, and not merely in terms of physical distance. Even if he'd had hope of winning her by some miracle, he knew he would never feel worthy of her after falling below her expectations of a marriage prospect. And yet now, at day's end, she was his - willingly and wholeheartedly.

And thanks to her generosity, he'd have the mill up and running in a week, if he could manage it. Thanks to Higgins, he had a list of men who would work for him. He still had contacts in Liverpool and London to whom he could apply for news about bids for jobs. Yes indeed, John had everything he could desire - save one thing. His mother, who was waiting for him back at home - he'd get no rest tonight until he had spoken once more to her about what had happened under his roof this night.

John's expression hardened, all the softness and happiness that Margaret's presence evoked in him evaporated as he contemplated the task ahead. Turning on his heel, he walked more quickly this time in the direction of home. His anger, provoked by his mother's words and actions, simmered his blood so that he hardly felt the cool air of the evening.

When Margaret had left the drawing room this evening, he'd been torn between utter confusion and the pure shock of Margaret's accusations - that his mother had dared to say that Margaret was unworthy of him - that she'd insisted that Margaret break the engagement and leave him. Of course, he shouldn't have been surprised, given Mother's reaction to his news earlier.

Margaret had been willing to give him up - her words had almost stopped his heart. But despite that, he loved her even more than before for being willing to make such a sacrifice for the sake of his happiness, misguided as her actions had been. If she'd been a more self-centered woman, like Fanny, she'd have refused to give him up and clung to him - but no, his Margaret had been strong enough to walk away, taking his heart along with her as she did.

She'd been right to believe that his mother would present him with an ultimatum that he choose between them - his mother had done precisely that following Margaret's rapid departure from the scene "_Son, I'm only tryin' to make you see reason!_" she'd pleaded with him. "_That girl'll never be content with you, whatever her motivations for acceptin' you! I won't watch her break your poor heart a second time! In time, you'll see that I knew best and you'll regret the loss of this sly minx less than you do right now._"

She had been so sure that he'd give Margaret up so easily this time. She was absolutely determined to make the most important decision of his life for him - as if he were still a naive youth instead of a grown man who knew his own mind. She believed that she could slander the woman he loved and he'd just allow it.

John's nostrils flared as he recalled the how his ire had sparked to life at this realization. He'd wanted to shout and tell his mother in no uncertain terms what he thought of her interference. but his instinct had told him to go after Margaret instead - he mustn't let Margaret leave his home without being assured of his love and his commitment to their engagement, whatever his mother might say.

And as he had kissed her, he'd known that he'd made the right choice. Margaret had tried hard to resist him - had tried to give him the freedom he didn't want. He'd had to wear her resistance down with his embrace - not that he'd make a habit of using the attraction between them to always get his way. Part of what made him love her so much was the fact that she had such spirit - that she was ready and willing to challenge him when her beliefs differed from his. However, the only subject he was unwilling to be challenged on - by his mother or Margaret or anyone in the_ bloody_ Empire, for that matter - was that of his marriage to the only woman he would ever love. That matter was closed, permanently. And as he walked purposefully up the front steps of his home, he intended to make that point very clear to his mother immediately.

"John?" he heard his mother calling him, but he didn't answer. He knew what he must do. He heard her footsteps follow him up the steps, but still he did not recognize her presence. He walked through the hall and climbed up the stairs. ,Without hesitation, he opened the door to his bedroom and entered. He knelt down to retrieve a pair of well-used leather traveling cases from under his bed. He set them down on top of the bed, fully aware that his mother was watching his every move.

"John? what's the meanin' of this? What are you doin'?" she asked him as he walked towards his chest of drawers. "I'm packing - what does it look like I'm doing?" he answered her coldly, still not looking at her."You're goin' to see Mr. Lennox? To get the money for the mill?" She asked, her tone hopeful. "That is one reason, yes. But I have other business in London, Mother. Miss Hale will be leaving tomorrow as you asked her to - and as her intended husband, it is both my privilege and duty to escort her back to her aunt's door in safety." He gave his mother a hard look as he began to fill the traveling cases with clothes and other necessities.

"_Intended_?" Mother spat out the word. "You can't mean you've taken her back - after she's gone and thrown your affections away a second time. I really don't know what kind of game this girl is playin' with you, John. There are plenty of local girls used to this life we lead here who'd make a more suitable bride for you than that Miss Hale could. She don't belong here, son - it's best that you both realize that now before it's too late and you're saddled with a wife who can't bear this hard city life. She'll thrive no better here than her poor mother did - I won't -"

"_Stop._" John bit out the command so sharply, it stopped his mother in mid-sentence - no easy feat, he knew. "You have insulted my future bride enough for one night, Mother. I will _not_ hear you insult the memory of her mother - the lady was a kind, if fragile soul, and her death was a loss that is to be sorely grieved. Nor will I listen to your excuses, however well-meaning they might be. I am a grown man, Mother. This is _my_ choice to make, not yours."

He turned and faced her squarely. "I have counted the risk, believe me. I have found that to love as much I do, there is a great risk - a great vulnerability that comes with it. But one cannot truly love with a closed heart. I have opened my heart to Margaret and entrusted it to her - I could not take any greater personal risk. And she took that same risk and offered me the same in return - a truly courageous action, because she believed me to despise her because I saw her embracing her brother at the station that night and thought the worst about her.

"Yes, Mother - her _brother_," he triumphed at the surprise on his mother's face at that revelation. "Her brother is on the run for some legal trouble - this is why he was never spoken of. He came to pay his last respects to his dying mother. Margaret saw him off to London the night I saw them together and came to the wrong conclusion - as did everyone else. There was _no_ impropriety, Mother - rather, Margaret's behavior has been what I would describe, again, as courageous - more so than I thought any woman could be. And it is for her bravery, her generosity of heart and her spirit - which you so despise - that I happen to admire and love most about her. Not her money, not even her beauty, which completely staggers me. I would love and want to marry her if she still had not a penny to her name and was as common and ordinary as any waif on the street."

He drew close to his mother, having to restrain himself so as not to release the full measure of his anger out on her. "I am _going_ to marry her, Mother. And we are going to be happy - and if you cannot look past your _bloody_ prejudices... If you cannot accept Margaret as your daughter - if you cannot forgive her for a mistake that she has _more_ than made amends for - then, Mother..." he paused, wishing he did not have to speak the next words but knowing they were necessary. "You will not be welcome in our home," he finally told her, watching the shock and hurt wash over her features. But his will was inflexible on this point.

"John-" his mother sputtered incredulously. "Perhaps you will be happier living with Fanny and Watson. She needs a good house manager - you've said so yourself many a time," John continued, not allowing his mother to interject. "But you'll have plenty of time to consider your situation. We'll discuss this again when I return." He turned his back on her and walked back to the bed. "I need to finish this before I sleep - I leave early in the morning." he stated in a dismissive tone, clearly indicating that the conversation was at an end.

His mother was silent for a long moment. Then she spoke in a strained voice. "When will you be back, John? We need to-" "I'll return when my business in London is finished, Mother. I don't know when that will be. Now, please leave me to my work," he asked curtly.

His mother stood there watching him silently for a few minutes, but he ignored her presence. Finally, she quietly stepped outside the room and closed the door behind her.

John sighed, stopping his work and shaking his head at the mess this night had become. It pained him to speak this way to his mother. She did love him - he knew that. She didn't want to see him hurt - he even understood that much. But she had sorely wounded him tonight when she'd failed to trust his judgement when it came to Margaret. His mother, who knew him better than anyone else, had believed him to have lost his reason and sense over a mere infatuation. She had insulted his intended under his own roof - when he had made every effort to reconcile her to the happy turn of events this day. When Margaret had been considerate and restrained at dinner, even though his mother had refused to be civil - so far as to be blatantly hostile to any comment directed at her in conversation.

Margaret had not deserved any of it. The scene in the drawing room had merely been the final straw. His mother had then asked him to choose - and John had obliged her, however reluctantly. That his choice had not fallen on her had obviously his mother aback. It had not been an easy decision to make - but it was the only one he could make. To go on without Margaret's love would make having the mill back irrelevant - that is what his mother could not understand.

His mother had been his rock his whole life, even before his father had died. She'd been his sole support, his greatest advocate, and he had many fond memories of the years they'd shared as a family. Now he wanted to expand that family to include Margaret - and the children they would have one day. His mother, who claimed to love him best, staunchly refused to rejoice in his happiness, while his Margaret had been willing to give up her claim to him so as not to destroy the closeness she must know existed between mother and son. The woman who had proved to have his best interests at heart - that was who John had chosen in the end.

He fervently prayed, as he lay in the dark waiting for sleep to overtake him, that his mother would take this separation to consider what she had done - and would decide that this war she had declared on his marriage was not worth fighting. He wanted his mother to take full part in his future happiness - but not at the cost of Margaret's. His mother would come to peaceable terms with his marriage, or else she would have no part in his future life. There would be no more excuses, no more scenes, and no more of Margaret's tears shed on his mother's account. There _would_ be peace in this house, one way or the other. He'd made his choice - now it was time for his mother to make hers.

John closed his eyes wearily. He would think on this no more tonight. Tomorrow - in just a few hours- he would see his Margaret again, and their plans would be worked out between them. He savored his new memories of her as he drifted towards sleep. Her hair - so soft, shining in the afternoon sun. Lips that responded to his kisses with an intensity that matched his own. Her dear white hand resting on his arm - where it belonged.

Despite the sadness his confrontation with his mother had caused, his heart lifted at his final waking thought. Margaret - in his heart, in his arms, and before too long, here in his bed with him. She belonged with him every bit as much as he did with her - and he would fight the world and the devil himself to make sure that with him is exactly where she would always be.

_****Author's note: This is a long chapter, but John obviously had a lot to say lol. I personally find intense, forceful Mr. Thornton rather sexy, which is why I just let him indulge in it as often as he chooses (I am in love with Richard Armitage and his portrayal, in case you haven't yet guessed). **_

_**So what was Margaret thinking about so seriously as they walked back from the mill? I know the answer, of course - but I'm curious as to what y'all think!****_


	9. Together We Belong

Margaret stood by her window in her nightgown, unable to sleep after the day's events. It had been fortunate that she had at least thought to bring a nightgown in her carpet bag in case she and Henry were forced to spend the night in town. Now if only she had a spare dress for her return trip tomorrow - not that she was fussy about dress, but every woman wanted to be dressed in fresh clothes when she encountered the man she loved.

_John_. The memories of his words tonight were the only thing Margaret wanted to think about tonight. He had pursued her outside the mill - he still wanted to marry her, even after she'd given him up. She'd expected his anger, his resentment - it had been the manner in which he'd reacted the first time she'd turned his proposal down. Surely, no man would countenance a second rejection - especially so soon after she'd agreed and said yes.

For a fleeting moment, Margaret had wondered if it was because of the mill - she knew how unforgiving of a slight he could be when the advantage was on his side. But no, she'd quickly reminded herself. She'd handed the papers over - in his presence. He would have had the money he needed regardless of their relationship.

"_What if I don't want my freedom, Miss Hale?_" he'd asked her fiercely. "_I choose the woman who said tonight that no woman could love me for myself the way you do. That's what I want, and what I intend to have!_" The blaze of love in his eyes when he'd said those words to her was a sight she could never forget.

He wanted _her_ - he wanted her love, not the money. The money really didn't matter to him, Margaret smiled to herself. No other man could prove so true under such circumstances, she was sure of it.

"_As you love me, and as I love you more than life, we'll be married- there is no question of that. No question!_" He'd been so serious, so intense, so absolutely sure of himself. He knew what he wanted, even though his mother...

Margaret sighed and sat down on the bed. John had told her not to worry about anything, but it hurt her sorely that he would have to make that choice from which she'd tried so hard to protect him. He loved his mother - he had been unfailingly loyal to her even when she'd been blatantly rude, as she had been at dinner.

Mrs. Thornton was not an evil woman - if she were, perhaps Margaret would have just cause to hate her. But Margaret knew better - Hannah loved her son as much as he did her. Her love was perhaps too bent on control of her son's life, but Margaret did not doubt that the woman genuinely thought that she was doing what was best for him, wrong as she was.

Margaret mused ruefully about just what kind of woman would be good enough for John in his mother's eyes. Someone tall and stately like Ann Latimer? She scoffed. Ann may have admired John's position, but the man himself? Would she have loved him? Would she have stood by him in his darkest hour?

Margaret doubted it. But then perhaps Ann only cared about position her status as wife of an important man with money. With those things, she could be happy - but what about John's happiness? John was not a typical Englishman - cold, blasé , and self-involved with no thought to anything but his own selfish pursuits. He had proved himself to her to be interested not just in his own success - he had invested in the people he employed to make their lives easier. He'd taken Nicholas Higgins on, established a kitchen for the workers and employed Mary as cook. He had been kind to her father - he had been charitable to Margaret herself, even when she had not deserved his kindness.

He'd become open to change - he had opened his heart and become human to her. He was no longer the proud, unfeeling man she'd mistaken him for and despised. She could see his heart now, and it was seeing him for who he really was that had opened her own heart to loving him in return. He was truly a worthy man - a man who deserved to be loved for himself, not for anything else. He would never have been happy with any other kind of union. And yet Ann Latimer, who could never have loved him that way, would have been his choice - his mother's choice- if Margaret had never come to Milton. Is that _really_ what Hannah Thornton wanted for her son? A wife that did not love him, and therefore could not interfere with his mother's all-encompassing love?

Margaret shook her head. She had no idea how this matter would be resolved, but she knew it cause John pain regardless. She wondered what she could do to ease the heartache he must be feeling - and how she could prevent a similar scene when she returned home tomorrow. Aunt Shaw was not nearly as intimidating as Mrs. Thornton, but her hysterics could become extremely discomfiting... No, she would go to London by herself, bear the worst of the upheaval herself, and invite John down later. She would, at least, spare him an awkward first meeting with her family.

For her own part, Margaret had to smile at the thought of breaking the news in full to everyone when she returned to London tomorrow. She could imagine the scene in Harley Street - Aunt would be beside herself, Edith would bemoan how much Sholto would miss her - meaning herself, of course. Dixon would be disappointed - as Margaret's second mother, she had always professed to be ambitious for her young miss's marital prospects. And Henry... poor Henry. He surely must realize how matters have concluded after what he had seen at the train station.

But Margaret was an independent woman of means, and she'd marry whom she deemed worthy - and John _was_, most certainly. Her family would reconcile to her choice in time, just as Mother's family had when she'd married her father. Once John had the business running again with his usual efficiency, they surely would admire him and then allow his quiet charm to win them over the rest of the way.

And Frederick - she couldn't forget her brother, he was the closest family she had. Margaret decided she would write to Frederick with her news as soon as possible so he could, at least, share in her new-found joy. He wouldn't be able to attend the wedding, of course, and Margaret would feel his absence sorely - who else would have the right to give her away? He alone would understand her happiness, being newly married himself. From everything his last letter had said, his new wife Dolores was making him a very happy man and taking wonderful care of him, which was all Margaret could have hoped for him.

Margaret sighed. If only she could go visit them... except for John, she wished herself hundreds of miles away from Milton right now. She had, in fact, planned on leaving England for Cadiz after the disastrous interview with Mrs. Thornton tonight, but John would no doubt rail against the idea soundly, so Margaret knew it was not a viable option. _Someday..._ Margaret nodded to herself sadly. She d see her beloved brother and her new sister someday. Till then, the occasional letter would have to do.

Margaret yawned and moved towards the bed. Though her mind was still spinning with many unsettled thoughts, it was late and she ought to try and get some sleep. John had said they would make plans tomorrow... She wondered what he'd meant by that. Would he spend tonight trying to convince his mother of her errors? Would John want her to go back to London or stay here? She couldn't stay in the hotel indefinitely, especially without clothes. The house she'd lived in with her parents had been let after she'd moved back to London. And living for any amount of time in the Thornton House would be simply intolerable.

She lay down heavily. Rest... she needed rest. She closed her eyes and thought of John. She pretended his arms were around her - he had held her so close against him tonight. His lips kissing hers - not gently as he had earlier today. His kisses had ignited feelings that had both exhilarated and frightened her. She had enjoyed the sensations he'd evoked far too much - had responded to them, much more than was ladylike, she was sure.

She had worried all the way back to the hotel that John thought less of her because of it - he had so abruptly ended the embrace, hurrying her on their way back to the hotel. Perhaps he could tell she had enjoyed it - and only loose women were supposed to enjoy such things. She had heard sermons on the sin of lusting after the flesh, but since no man had ever made her feel such things before, Margaret had not thought on the matter much. Perhaps it was wrong, the way he made her feel- perhaps it was only man's nature to crave such things, and for woman merely to endure them.

Margaret was not sure what she should do. She had no mother to go to for guidance. Aunt Shaw would get the vapors if such an private subject were brought up, and Edith had only just remarked that she was glad Captain Lennox was currently demanding less... physical affection now that she had provided him with an heir. She had talked more of the shopping she had done on her honeymoon rather than the intimacies which must have taken place for Edith to become with child so soon after their marriage. No, her cousin would be no help.

And she could hardly ask John... she loved him, it was true, but after only a day, to speak of such things... Margaret blushed at the mere idea of it.

"_Sleep well, my love - and do not worry about anything tonight..._" John's parting words to her echoed in her ears, and the memory gave her a warm shiver that she felt down to her toes. He didn't even have to be present to . John loved her and wanted to marry her, no matter what he thought of her behavior. In this knowledge she would trust until she could reason it all out. And early tomorrow morning, she decided as she fell asleep, she would send to the dressmaker's shop to see if she had something ready-made so that he would admire her when he saw her. Then, before she left, they would make their plans for their future - together.

****Author's note: It's really true that proper Victorian women were expected to not enjoy the physical pleasures of a relationship, even with someone they were in love with or engaged to. Lol it's a far cry from the sentiments of today! But I don't think Margaret will have to worry for too long for John to reassure her - while maintaining the proprieties, of course. I'm determined to keep this story clean, relatively speaking, while still exploring the passionate side of Margaret and John's natures.**

**A new chapter is coming soon - life is still stressful and difficult, but I'm finding that losing myself in this story helps, as well as everyone's kind comments about it :) ****


	10. Update and apology

Hey everybody. Sorry I haven't updated in so long. Between work and trying to move into a new apartment, life has been insane - and I haven't had a laptop since the end of January. It robbed me of the chapter I was working on at the time, and I haven't been able to afford a new one or even get online much.

Also... I've endured some real personal heartbreak in the last few months. Like our beloved John Thornton had to watch the woman he loved walk away from him, thinking he would never see her again... I have lost the man I love to another path, another life - and I don't know if I will ever see him again. He's the one for me - I'm not being melodramatic when I say that I don't have the desire or ability to even look at anyone else, let alone let them into my bruised and battered heart. I'm getting used to be alone, though it isn't easy to even get through the day sometimes, and life feels rather empty. I guess real life isn't like the fairy tales with a guaranteed happy ever after. I always believed it would work out somehow. But it hurts too much to believe that anymore - for myself anyway.

But I'm going to keep writing this story - for all of you, if nothing else. Real, true love does happen, and it is the most precious thing in the world - worth fighting for, living for, and dying for. I've fought the good fight, and though my fight is now over, I will never stop believing that what I can't have is out there for others to find. I live my life in testament to the one I love, and I hope, in another life, he will find it in his heart to love me the way he can't love me now. I hope I can prove worthy of him by continuing on. He's worth everything I have to bear, every tear I cry.

Anyhoo, I'm finally getting a laptop soon, so I'll be writing again and hopfully posting by the end of the month. Sorry again for the delay - 


	11. Follow Me and I will Follow

John rose early the next morning, as was his custom. Polly Jenkins was ligting the fire in his room, as expected. "I'll be needing a bath this morning, Polly - and my breakfast on a tray please," he requested gruffly. "Yes sir," Polly nodded and rose from the fireplace.

John pulled on his dressing gown and sat down at a small table by the window where his morning papers sat as always. He perused the papers while his bath was drawn, noting an ebullient interview his brother Watson had given to the local paper - gloating over the financial windfall he'd acquired therough his scheme.

He couldn't help but roll his eyes. No doubt Fanny would be over today to preen once again - John was thankful that he would not have to endure her triumph once again. He did wonder what Fanny's face would look like when their mother informed her of his own good fortune. No doubt Mother would abuse Margaret's character again, and Fanny would, no doubt pander to her opinions. Well, at least he and Margaret would not be here to listen to any of it. He turned the page in slight disgust.

He hastily consumed the good breakfast Polly brought to him a few moments later - cooked eggs, sausage,  
>toast and tea - and picked up the international papers and focused on any indication that the cotton market was improving. He might have to plan for a trip to Le Havre soon. But his trip to London would come first, of course. He would formally ask for Margaret's hand and work to make himself acceptable to her family as a suitor. It would not be an easy task - no doubt her family would raise objections similar to his mother's - but finding fault with him instead. And just as Margaret had wished last night to spare him from the seemingly inevitable conflict with his mother, he wished he could spare her this upcoming interview with her rather highly-strung aunt.<p>

From outside his door, he heard his mother's voice. "He's eaten, then?" she asked quietly. "Aye, Ma'am," Polly responded. "Cook's boilin' bath water for 'im now." "I see. Thank you Polly," was the quiet response,and John heard the energetic steps of Polly returning downstairs. Then, after a few moments, the slow, deliberate steps of his mother. John relaxed - he had no wish for another confrontation with his mother, and it appeared she felt the same.

John drank the last tea in a hurry and set down his paper as Polly's knock signaled the arrival of the bath water a few moments later. He washed quickly and dressed, taking more care with his appearance than he would normally. Yesterday, Margaret had encountered him unshaven, tousled, with his collar undone. Any other woman would have been horrified at his appearance, as indeed Fanny had been when he'd returned home. But Margaret had not been repulsed by him - far from it. She'd looked on him as he'd dreamed she would. As any man dreamed the woman he loved would look at him -with both admiration and desire. And in Margaret's eyes, he'd seen evidence of both, even in her sweet innocence.

John regarded himself critically in the looking glass as he shaved. On his best day, he'd never been vain about his appearance, and he certainly didn't think himself a particularly handsome fellow. But today was the beginning of a new life for him - for both of them, and he wanted to look his best for her. To look the part of a man she could be proud of. A man that she'd wish to present to her family.

When he was satisfied with his appearance, John firmly grasped the handles of his traveling cases and exited the room, closing the door behind him. He deposited the cases at the foot of the stairs, instructing Polly to have them sent to the station ahead of him. He was aware of his mother's watching eyes from the back hallway,but he did not so much as glance at her. He would think of his mother and her actions no more today. It was Margaret he was thinking of - it was Margaret he could not wait to see a moment longer.

He strode through town with a purposeful step, acknowledging all who hailed him with a terse good morning and a nod. He did not tarry - he was drawn towards the building where Margaret waited for him like a thirsty man was drawn to life-giving water. The thought of her smile and the light in her eyes quickened his step. A few more steps, and she would be within his reach once more - until she was, he would be convinced that yesterday had only been a beautiful dream.

When he reached the hotel, he asked the young man at the desk to send a maid to inform Miss Hale that he had arrived. "She's gone, sir - left early this mornin'" the desk clerk told him, hardly looking up from the book he was writing in.

John froze. She had left him - _knowing_ he was coming for her. Schooling his features to betray none of the emotions that roiled inside of him. "Thank you," he replied tersely and turned to walk out the door again. He could not comprehend it. After his reassurances last night, he'd been sure that Margaret had understood him - that he'd call upon her first thing and they'd make their immediate plans to return to London together. The way he'd kissed her, the way he'd told her how much he loved her could not have been more plain.

But her thoughtful silence on their walk back John remembered now. She'd merely bid him to rest well and... "_Whatever happens tomorrow, I do not regret what has happened today..._" What had she meant by that? He knew Margaret well - she loved him, but she was as stubborn as ever his mother could be. If she had been determined to leave him, thinking it best for him, she would have done it. Well, she would find his determination no less than hers- he would journey to London on the next train. He would find her, wherever she took it into her head to hide herself - London, Spain, to the far edges of the earth if he had to.

John's thoughts consumed him so much that he was halfway across the street before he heard someone shouting his name. "Mr. Thornton! Wait please!" A sound almost like a growl rumbled from his chest - he had neither the time or the inclination for idle chatter, whoever it was. He would not rest - would not stop - until Margaret was in front of him again.

"Mr. Thornton, please!" A hand grabbed his arm and he turned to snap at whoever dared accost him. But he stopped when he recognized the face of the young man from the hotel. His eyes were wide and appeared frightened. "Forgive me, Mr. Thornton - I wasn't payin' attention a moment ago. When she left, the lady left you a note, knowin' you'd be callin' for her this mornin'." He held out a cream-colored envelope with a trembling hand.

John looked down at the envelope. He'd never seen Margaret's handwriting before - his name was written in immaculately curved, feminine-looking letters. He took the envelope and looked back at the young man. "Thank you," he replied, in a kinder tone than he'd used before. The man looked as though he were about to expire from relief and immediately turned to go back to the hotel, his duty discharged.

Without waiting, John opened the letter right there in the street.

_John,_

_Forgive my absence. You will think I am turning into Fanny, but it is merely my feminine pride that has won over my practicality that prevents me from greeting you at this moment. I feel compelled to visit the dressmaker's to see if I can find something else to wear so you will still admire me. I care not what my aunt and others may think of me. However, I`care for your opinion more than I dare express.  
><em>

_ From there, I will visit Nicholas and the children, as it is not right to come to town and not see how they are faring. Meet me there if you please - if I have not already arrived, I shortly will._

_All my love,_

_Margaret_

Gone to the dressmaker's - so he would admire her. John laughed to himself, shaking his head and folding the letter into his pocket. Here he'd been fearing the worst, and she'd merely gone to buy a dress just to please him. His dear, ridiculous love - he'd think her the loveliest woman in town if a plain cotton shift was all she had to stand up in. But then, had he not taken equal care with his appearance this morning as well? And of course her generous heart would not allow her to leave without paying her respects to Higgins and his family before departing for London.

John felt ashamed that he should have thought Margaret so faithless so quickly. She had not meant to deceive him into thinking she had left him - of course not. However, he realized he would have to become re-accustomed to her independence spirit. As it was a quality that he loved in her, John did not think it would take him long.

With a much lighter heart he walked back through town, down the now-familiar roads towards Higgins' house. When he approached the door, he heard the laughter of children and smiled to himself. He knocked on the door, and a smiling Mary opened it for him. "Mr Thornton - come in, sir!" she greeted him, bobbing him a curtsy and allowing him to pass.

John stepped into the warm room lit with a cheerful fire and took in the scene in front of him. Nicholas Higgins sat at the hearth, young Tom sitting in his lap and reading from a book. One of the little girls sat in a nearby rocking chair playing with a doll.

"Master Thornton! This is indeed a surprise!" Nicholas looked up and exclaimed as he eased the young boy off his lap. He smiled genially as he extended his hand forward in greeting. "Take your ease, sir. To what do we owe this unexpected visit?" he asked.

John shook Higgins' hand warmly. "I'll be away from town for a time Higgins - and wished to pay my respects," he replied as he sat down in the tall chair beside young Tom. Mary sat next to him and resumed knitting what looked like a sock.

John looked down fondly at Tom, who looked up at him in recognition and smiled. "It sounds to me that your reading skills are improving, young master" he smiled back. Tom grinned and showed him his book. "Higgins says I'm fit to teach me sister t'read soon, I'm that good at it." The lad was clearly proud of himself, and rightly so. "I'm sure you are," John nodded in agreement.

"Leavin', Master?" Higgins asked, bringing John back to the conversation he'd initiated. The man was taken aback. "I'd heard things were bad but... Aye, tis a sad, sad day when a decent man like you has to pull up stakes in order to survive - that's the honest truth." He sighed. "I don't know what I'll be able to do for these little ones now that no mill in town'll hire the likes of me," he shook his head worriedly.

"No need to worry, Higgins," John assured him with a faint smile. "I've come to tell you that Marlborough Mills will running again very soon, so you and the men will need to prepare yourselves to work hard for me again. It is, in fact, my reason for leaving this afternoon. I've been offered an investment of funds, so I will not be quitting town for good - merely long enough to make the arrangements."

He was pleased as he saw the gleam of relief in Higgins' eyes. For a moment the gruff man could not speak at all. Then he said, "Well, if my Bessie were still alive, she'd be crowin' about miracles from above right now! And what a piece of luck for you - you deserved a leg up, Master, and I mean it."

Then the light in Higgins' eyes dimmed. "I, uh, suppose it's your brother-in-law who's all warm in the pocket who's stooped to help you. He'll be causin' trouble the moment he walks in the door, no doubt." He snorted. " I ought to say it plainly, Master - I don't know that the men will take kindly to someone else runnin' things and interferin'..."

John chuckled and hastened to reassure the man. "My new investor has the reputation for interfering in my business already, I'll have you know. But I can assure you that the men will appreciate her influence over me, rather than resent it."

A knock sounded at the door, before Higgins could reply. It was Margaret - it must be, John predicted, and he caught his breath as Mary left her knitting to answer it.

"Miss Margaret!" Mary exclaimed, immediately coming to the lady's aid, as Margaret, ever generous, carried several packages in her arms. "Margaret! We'd no idea you'd come to town!" Higgins also moved forward to help his daughter carry the load.

"It was rather unexpected on my part as well," Margaret laughed as the children rushed to embrace her. She greeted them all by name with affection, then straightened as she finally recognized his presence in the room, She looked at him warmly, standing where she was as he rose to greet her as well.

"Miss Hale," John nodded, aware of how calm his voice sounded in comparison with how his heart was racing. Remembering she had delayed this meeting so that she could find a new gown, he reluctantly tore his gaze away from her face and inspected her dress as he thought she might expect.

She had looked the part of a sophisticated lady yesterday in her green traveling gown yesterday. But the dress she had chosen today more closely reflected the Margaret he'd come to know and love. The light blue tartan dress was a simple garment in comparison with her former garb - but it did not signify in the least. He'd always been of the opinion that Margaret Hale needed no ostentatious decoration of any kind to be the most elegant woman in the room - at least in his eyes.

"Mr. Thornton, she acknowledged his greeting, her eyes communicating far more than her words. Apprehension, yes - but love as well, most assuredly. He hoped that the look he returned reassured her, for there could be no private conversation here. At last she smiled, and the tightening in his chest after the tension of last night eased. All was well.

"Margaret, as usual you've been too generous," Higgins told her as he re-entered the room from sorting out the packages. He embraced her warmly. John was almost surprised he felt no jealousy. But he knew Higgins and his children were looked on almost as family to Margaret. It spoke volumes to her character as well as her warm heart that such simple people held her affections so dear.

"Nicholas, you know I could not visit without bringing something for you and the children until the mill starts up again." Margaret told him as she gently pulled away. "You've heard the news then? Master Thornton was just tellin' me..." Higgins began, but stopped. His eyes widened."You're not the miracle he was just tellin' me about now, are you?"

Margaret smiled. "Nicholas, do you really think I could stand to see anyone else run Marlborough Mills for me but Mr. Thornton? Mr. Bell invested in Watson's scheme and I heard of it's success and ... John's reduced circumstances at the same time." She looked at John with undisguised admiration. "I could not bear for him - and the workers - to be punished for a decision founded on wise principle. The money I inherited from Mr. Bell will do more good invested in the mill rather than sitting uselessly in a bank. And so I came to Milton yesterday to approach Mr. Thornton with my... proposal," she explained, and her cheeks flushed as she spoke the last word.

John took up the tale where Margaret left off. "We crossed paths unexpectedly, Higgins - and Miss Hale's offer was one I could not refuse. In fact, the proposal I made her in return seems rather paltry in comparison!" John's chest swelled with pride at the deepening flush in Margaret's cheeks. Seeing Higgins did not understand what he meant, John continued. "I have loved and admired Miss Hale for many months now. When she left, I did not think I would have an opportunity to... share my heart with her." _Again_, he added silently.

"When he did, it was an offer I dared not hope for either - but one I also found impossible to refuse," Margaret simply said, her blue eyes smiling into his.

A stunned Higgins finally found his voice. "Well, isn't this a day for wonders! May I offer you my heartiest, Master?" Higgins advanced to shake his hand again. The sincerity in his eyes touched John - for a man who had been once so decidedly against him, Higgins had become a valued worker and had the makings of a good friend."Thank you, Higgins. I'm the luckiest man in the land, and I know it." he acknowledged as he returned the gesture.

John looked past him for a moment to watch Mary embrace his Margaret in congratulations. The joy he saw in his love's face told him all he needed to know - last night had not diminished her feelings for him or her resolve keep her promise. Anything else could be overcome -and would be.

"You certainly are!" Higgins agreed with him. "Though I must say, Master - and I don't mean to be cozyin' up to my future employer by sayin' it." he winked mischievously. "Our Margaret couldn't have done better for herself either, and that's a fact."  
>-<p>

"You know you nearly gave me a heart attack this morning, Miss Hale?" John teased her later as they walked arm in arm from the Higgins' house. "Why, I am astonished that I could ever evoke such a violent reaction from you, Mr. Thornton! Whatever did I do to upset you so?" Margaret exclaimed in the same manner, a smile on her face. "The desk clerk nearly forgot your note and I thought..." he stopped. unable to finish the sentence.

"That I'd thought better of having such a mother-in-law and run away to London?" Margaret asked, and he met her gaze reluctantly."Something to that effect. I cannot apologize enough for my mother's behavior, Margaret. I know what she's done was motivated out of love, but..." John shook his head in frustration. "It was uncalled for - she cannot perceive my present happiness at all, and I want you to know that I have asked her to go and live with Fanny upon our marriage if she persists in refusing her blessing."

Margaret stopped, and he watched as several conflicting emotions played over her sweet face. Hurt, anger, relief, and worry. She looked up at him, eyes full of distress. "I know your mother loves you, and I would never have come between you and her for anything." Here eyes lowered. "I... will not deny to you that I did consider going away - only because I did not want to come between you and the person who has loved you best up till now. But I also cannot deny that the thought of leaving you a second time was one that I contemplated with _dread_," her voice trembled on that last word. "All those months in London, all I wished for - even if I would not have admitted it - was to see your face again. I do not think I could bear such a separation again, even though it is going to cost you so much."

Her eyes met his again, and he knew that her words were true. "I felt the same, Margaret - I would never have admitted it either, but thinking I'd never see you again brought great sadness to my heart. I knew no matter how many women I met, you were the only one I wanted at my side. The only one who wouldn't let me go back to being how I was before. I didn't want to be that man anymore - you made me want to be something more," he told her, his hands clasping her to his heart. "And let me be clear - if you _had_ decided to leave me, I would have followed you this time. To London or Spain or anywhere in the world you tried to hide from me. I'll not have any woman joined to me but you, Margaret Hale. That's as binding a vow as any I could make in a church."

Margaret looked at him for a long moment, and John wondered what she was thinking. Then she smiled, her eyes crinkling with humor - and love. "Well then, sir - let me inform you that I am leaving for London on the next available train. You are free to follow me as you wish - my aunt is anxious to make your acquaintance, as it happens." And with that, she continued on down the high street without him. John shook his head in amazement before following her as she bid. He chuckled to himself - Margaret Hale was full of delightful surprises - and she was would he take it for granted.

_And the people of Milton remarked for the remainder of the day about the brilliant smile that lit the face of the usually somber magistrate and former mill owner John Thornton as he assisted Miss Margaret Hale onto a train bound for London before entering himself and closing the door behind him._

_**Author's note** Thank you again for having patience with me. I hope this chapter is all right - I really wanted to get our couple back in a good mood before sending them off to London for more familial disapproval haha. Another chapter will be coming in the next couple of weeks, I promise!**_


	12. The Propriety of Propriety

Margaret woke to the sensation of already familiar lips gently brushing hers. She blinked, her vision blurry with sleep at first. Then the face of the man she loved was gazing down into hers, a look of love that was also becoming familiar to her radiating in his eyes. "Wake up, Sleeping Beauty we're nearly back to London," John told her in his dear Northern accent.

She smiled, then leaned back to stretch her arms. "I don't know what came over me," she confessed. "I slept perfectly well last night, and I never nap in the afternoon." John leaned closer to her, his breath warm on her face. "You've no need to excuse yourself, my dear. It's been an eventful few days I nodded off once or twice myself and I'm not ashamed to admit it! I suppose holding such a precious burden in his arms, a man can let his guard down easily." He grinned roguishly.

Margaret admitted to herself that she found the shelter of his arms restful and comfortable as well, but she refrained from saying so. She realized all of a sudden how close John held her far too intimately for propriety. Yet she felt as if she completely belonged where she was, and everything inside her resisted the idea of leaving his embrace. It felt right - but surely it must be wrong. Her worries of the previous night came back to her, and she unconsciously shifted away from him.

"Are you all right Margaret?" John asked, concern causing him to frown. "Nothing," Margaret denied, turning her burning cheeks away from him. "Well... I suppose I must confess being a bit nervous about my aunt - and my cousin. They're bound to make a fuss, and I don't know that I'm quite ready for more argument at the moment." It was not a complete untruth - she knew what the reaction would be when she and John arrived at the house in Harley street. And she knew that she would have to remain firm in the wake of her cousin's tears and her aunt's inevitable fit of vapors.

"I'll take the brunt of it, Margaret," his hand covered hers, and she looked back at him. His expression was serious, his lips thinned in determination. Another expression of his that she knew well. "It's not fair to you," she argued, but he laid one finger against her lips to silence her. "It wasn't fair that you had to face my mother's anger alone last night, either. And as the man who has proposed to you without asking your guardian's permission first, it is only to be expected that I face their objections without your shielding me from them. I wish to behave as a proper gentleman would. I beg you to allow me to deal with this, Margaret."

His tone brooked no argument, and his face was set with grim determination. Margaret knew that he would not yield to her in this matter. She was beginning to learn already to choose which situations were worth opposing him about, and which ones it was necessary to allow him his own will. She would let him make the first advance to her aunt. She had complete faith that he would make all effort to be every inch the gentleman she knew him to be.

But Margaret would not let him face her family alone - and she knew how to manage her aunt and cousin. He would not be insulted or abused by her family the way she had been by his. She would protect him, even if it was not what he wanted. Margaret was a fully-grown woman with her own income - and she had made her choice. A choice she knew both her parents would have approved. Accepted or not, John Thornton would be her husband and partner. If John was determined it would be so, Margaret was no determined. In this, she would most certainly have her way.

* * *

><p>The carriage ride to Harley Street was quiet. John slid his palms over the legs of his trousers, hoping he didn't appear as apprehensive as he felt. Despite his brave words to Margaret, in truth, he did not know what their reception would be when they arrived, and he had yet to find the proper words to express to Margaret's aunt those tender feelings that lived in his heart for her niece. He loved her, would honor her and do everything in his power to ensure her well-being and happiness. He would work tirelessly to make his business prosper again and he would manage his wife's fortune carefully and cautiously so that Margaret and the family he hoped to have with her would never want for anything. If they would only put their trust in him, he would make sure that trust was not unwarranted.<p>

That is what he felt, and being a plain-spoken man, he would say just that if the people he was about to address were not refined members of Society who might think his passionate feelings an unseemly display. He only hoped that he could moderate his feelings and show the decorum that he was sure would be expected of a suitor worthy of Margaret. He looked at her and wondered, not for the first time, if she was regretting her choice. Margaret loved him - that much he didn't doubt anymore. But the sudden hesitation in her eyes back on the train - the way she'd moved out of his arms made him question for the first time if his passion for this woman had made him overstep the bounds of propriety in his already unquenchable need for physical contact with her. In truth, he had not been able to help himself - she had such sway over him such as no other ever had. And she had responded to him with such an innocent sweetness, it had only encouraged him. But now, as they drew nearer to the place and people that represented all things civilized, John knew that he must indeed reign in his ardor, not only in speech but in action as well. He'd been taught the proper behavior of a gentleman well - and he admitted that they had skirted the line of impropriety in Milton in his unbridled joy at Margaret's acceptance of his suit. Here in London, their every moves would be carefully watched. No doubt her aunt would insist on chaperoning them every second, giving them no time for intimate conversation.

It was at times like these that the ways of a gentleman chafed at John's natural instinct to merely claim what was his and have done with the matter. His ancestors had been proud conquerors of their land and had always had trouble bending to the will of a higher authority. But this was a civilized age where manners and form ruled - and he had no wish to further his reputation as a brutish beast of a man who trampled on what others held important. He no longer wanted to be that man who had so repelled Margaret last year. For her sake, he could act the part required of him to perfection - he would not shame her or himself. They would be wed as soon as it could be arranged and then no one could contest his right to Margaret's affection whenever and however he wished to express it.

The carriage stopped, and John gazed up at the imposing structure before him. His home in Milton was nothing compared with it. He questioned again who he thought he was to ask Margaret to leave such a fine home to come and live with him. Her family would surely think him mad for even daring to ask such a thing.

Then he felt the gentle touch of Margaret's hand on his, now clenched at his sides. "It's just a house, John. It has not been truly home for me all these months and never will be again," she assured him as he looked down at her. John smiled, some of the tension leaving him - how she had known what he was thinking, he could not venture. But her words emboldened him - she had made her choice only two days ago on a train platform halfway between here and Milton. She had come home with him - she wanted Milton to be her home. And nothing either of their families could say would change that.

Alighting from the carriage, John handed Margaret down, his hand holding on to hers as long as he dared. The ache he felt inside when he reluctantly released her fingers from his grasp was keen. But as they climbed the stairs together, John squared his shoulders, ready to do battle for his future happiness. With Margaret at his side, he would accept no defeat - not when he had already overcome so many seemingly impossible obstacles. He would use any means in his power to convince the people waiting on the other side of that door of his worthiness - and of the certainty he had that there could be no better partner in life for him but Margaret.

_**(Author's note: SOrry for the delay yet again - I've been working on this chapter in bits and pieces for so long and I wanted it to sound just right. John's taken his time articulating his inner struggle to me and I've been forced to be patient haha.**_

_**I hope this is all right. I know the plot hasn't moved very far, but I didn't want to rush what will be a very important scene when John and Margaret make their case to her aunt. There won't be too many chapters left in this story anyway - if my schedule ever settles down I may write another story that tells of the Thornton's married life. We'll see. I'll be getting started on the next chapter soon, I promise!)**_


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